


The Stargate Project

by bpdizaya (ThiefofWords)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Government Conspiracy, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Prophetic Dreams, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction, Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiefofWords/pseuds/bpdizaya
Summary: The human brain is a fascinating thing. Some believe that we're still nowhere near unlocking its true potential; rumors of secret government experiments have existed for decades, feeding into conspiracy theories and inspiring numerous Hollywood blockbusters. Izaya isn't sure what he believes when it comes to matters of the mind, but he IS sure that American corporate executives hiring freelance information brokers to investigate various Japanese pre-teens for "scientific purposes" is more than a little suspicious -- especially when said executive seems far more interested in him than the children he's been hired to find.(Rated M for disturbing themes, mature content, and explicit language.)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, it's me again, back with a brand new story. This one is... well, it's going to be a lot darker and more fucked up than Second Chances are Stronger than Secrets, and will also involve original characters created specifically for it. There won't be any self-insertion or Mary Sues/Gary Stues or anything like that; I plan on making each character complex and engaging, despite the sci-fi/fantasy themes of the story itself. I hope you enjoy! ;A;

The barefoot little girl slinks quickly and quietly through the warm night, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she wills herself to stay calm. She's afraid, so very afraid, but it's only a matter of time before someone figures out she's gone and signals the alarm; if she can't find a way out of the compound before then, it's likely she won't be able to make it out at all.

She ducks behind a storage shed when she hears voices coming from behind her, holding her breath while she stays as still as she can. She has to fight the urge to look around the corner, knowing that all it would take to ruin her chance to escape is a single guard catching sight of her and alerting the others. The thought of that happening, of them finding her and dragging her back to her cell... it terrifies her. She can't let that happen. She can't let them take her back there -- no. She _won't_ let them take her back there, back to where the guards push her around and the scientists poke and prod at her, stabbing her with needles before ordering her to do things that make no sense at all. There used to be other test subjects, children like her picked up off the street and promised a soft bed and a warm meal. She doesn't know what happened to them; it's as if they just disappeared, one by one, until she was the only one left. 

When the voices have faded and the girl is absolutely certain that it's safe to move again, she heads for the main gate. She knows the guard stationed there tonight; he's lazy, easily distracted, and slow, hired more for his intimidating size and muscle strength than any actual security qualifications. If it was anyone else on duty, she'd be worried -- but she sneaks past him without so much as a glance in her direction, slipping under a gap in the electric fence just large enough for a child her size to fit through without touching it. 

The moment she's both free and certain that the coast is clear, she breaks into a run and doesn't stop until the compound is completely out of sight. Only then does she finally take a minute to rest, gasping for air as she tries to think of what to do now that she's out. The roads seem to stretch forever in every direction; she has no idea how to tell which way is safe and which way isn't, and there are no signs to help her figure out which one to take... but she does know that she can't stay here, the chance that she might be able to find her way to safety overpowering her fear of the unknown. 

It's then that the girl sees the lights flashing in the distance, too high to be a car but too low to be a plane -- unless, she realizes, the plane is in the process of landing. If that's the case, that means that there's likely to be an airport nearby; if she could somehow manage to get herself onto a plane heading out of the country, her chances at survival would raise considerably. Hope giving her a much-needed energy boost, the barefoot little girl begins to walk. 

\------------- 

"Yes, I do in fact understand that you do not have the required resources to finish preparations before the end of the week. What I do _not_ understand is why you are on the phone with me and not our supplier... well, of course he's going to charge extra, it's last minute. I'll handle the approval, just make sure you file the proper paperwork with accounting." The well-dressed businessman hangs up the phone and runs a hand through his pale-blonde hair. It has been an incredibly long day; he was supposed to go home hours ago, but it's almost as if every single last one of his employees simultaneously decided to forget how to use their brains, leaving him both frustrated and with very, _very_ little patience. 

The door to his office opens and his head of security steps in, a look on his face that tells the man that he isn't going to like what he has to say. "Sir, there's been an emergency." 

_Of course there has._

Sighing, he waves him in. "What is the nature of this emergency?" 

"We've received an alert from the compound, sir. It appears that the final test subject has somehow managed to escape." 

The man's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a frown. "Has she, now?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"How long has she been missing?" 

"A few hours now, as far as we can tell. Maybe more." 

"Any leads on where she might be?" 

"Security footage shows her boarding an international flight at the county airport." 

"She made it that far? I'm actually impressed. Do we know the flight's destination?" 

"It is currently scheduled to land at Narita International Airport at around 3am our time, sir." 

"Has the Tokyo branch been alerted?" 

"Yes, sir. They have agents en route." 

"Excellent. Have their head of ops contact me immediately. Anything else to report?" 

"There's a call for you from the director, sir." 

"Fantastic." The man sighs once more, rubbing his temples. "Patch him through." 

"Yes, sir." 

"And bring me a coffee, while you're at it. Six sugars, four creams. With whip. " 

"Yes, sir." The head of security nods respectfully before exiting the office. The man's call-waiting flashes a few seconds later; he picks up the phone immediately, a sour smile on his face. 

"Hello, father dearest. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

_"I have a job for you."_

"Is that so? What kind of job?" 

_"The kind you're best at. Officially, you're to go to Japan in order to assist their agents in locating the missing test subject."_

"And unofficially?" 

_"Our friends at Nebula have sent us a list of potential candidates for testing. In the case that the girl can not be recovered alive, she will need to be replaced."_

"And it's up to me to find her replacement, I assume?" 

_"You assume correctly."_

"Very well. I'll head out at once." 

_"See that you do."_ There's a 'click', and the line goes dead. The man sighs one last time, pressing a button on his intercom. 

_"Security."_

"Is my coffee ready?" 

_"Not quite, sir."_

"When it is, bring it to me in a thermos instead of a mug. I have a flight to catch." 

_"Yes, sir."_

The man releases the intercom button, shutting his laptop computer so he can slip it into its leather case. He's always wanted to visit Japan; his favorite sushi restaurant may be an excellent way to curb his craving, but authenticity is not one of its best qualities. Grabbing his jacket from off the coat rack, he slings it over his arm and heads out the door.


	2. Crossing Borders

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve to get punched, I'm just saying that maybe you could have waited until we were out of the building to do it. We're just lucky the landlady likes me, otherwise we might have -- hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, I am. But doesn't security seem extra tight today?" Shizuo asks his senior. The two of them are currently sitting in an airport cafe, wasting time until Tom has to leave for his trip to Osaka. 

"Probably some bigshot coming in from overseas, I wouldn't worry about it. I think that's my flight they just called -- yep, it is. Take care of yourself, okay? I'll see you in a couple weeks." 

"Yeah, you too. Safe travels." Shizuo waves goodbye, waiting until his friend is out of sight before sighing and getting up from the table. Taking his pack of American Spirits out of his vest pocket, he pulls out a cigarette and starts to head towards the smoking area. He's in the middle of lighting it when he feels something hit his leg, glancing down to find a scrawny little foreign girl wearing no shoes sitting on the ground with a dazed expression on her face. She must have fallen when she bumped him. "You okay, kid? Where are your shoes?" He asks, offering his hand to help her up. She doesn't take it, instead choosing to blink up at him silently. He doesn't know why, but something in her stare gives him the chills. 

Suddenly the girl jumps to her feet, her face paling as her wide eyes focus on something behind him. Turning to look, he notices that a few of the guards have begun to walk in his direction; when he turns back to the girl, she's gone. "What the hell?" He scratches his head in confusion. 

"Excuse me, sir." One of the guards stops in front of him, her eyes hidden behind mirrored shades. He's starting to think they aren't guards at all. "You're going to need to come with us." 

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" 

"I am not authorized to answer that question." 

"Then I ain't going nowhere." 

"We're not asking." One of the other so-called guards warns. "We are prepared to use force if necessary." 

The threat causes a grin to spread across Shizuo's face, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint as he leans forward to loom menacingly over the other man. "I'd like to see you try." 

"You're making a big mistake, sir." The third "guard" tells him, his hand on his sidearm. "Maybe you'd like to reconsider?" 

Shizuo's grin simply widens. Five seconds and one trash can later, two of the fake guards are unconscious on the ground and the last one is frozen in fear. Deciding it'd be a good idea not to stick around, he shoves his hands into his pockets and heads for the train station. 

By the time he gets back to his studio apartment, Shizuo's ready to climb in bed and pass the fuck out. When he unlocks the door and opens it to find the little girl from the airport sitting on his futon, he's forced to accept the fact that that most likely isn't going to happen anytime soon. "How the hell'd you get in here?" He asks, confused and a little creeped out. The little girl doesn't answer. "Okay, you don't speak Japanese. Got it. Fuck, what do I do now?" If it wasn't four in the goddamn morning, he could text Celty and ask her for help. For now... for now, he guesses, he'll have to wait. 

He digs through his pile of clean laundry until he finds a t-shirt, a pair of boxers, and a towel, then sets them on the bed in front of the girl. He then points to his bathroom, not quite sure how to best communicate with her; luckily, she seems smart enough to get the point. Nodding at him, the girl picks up the clothes and towel and disappears into the bathroom. He waits until he hears the water running before changing out of his uniform, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and a plain white tank top. Grabbing a couple of blankets and a pillow off of his bed, he stretches out on the floor next to the coffee table. 

When the girl comes back out, he's already snoring. 

_Later that evening, in Shinjuku..._

The exhausted informant rubs his eyes for what seems like the millionth time, frowning at the papers in front of him. He'd had what he's pretty certain was the worst sleep in his entire life; if it wasn't for the nightmare he'd had last night still being fresh in his mind, he wouldn't have thought he'd slept at all. Normally he's not bothered at all by bad dreams, but this one was different... it had felt so _real,_ so unlike a dream at all that it's been hours and he's still shaken up by it. 

"Your five o'clock is here." 

Izaya looks up to see his secretary standing there, a curious look on her face. "I wasn't aware I had a five o'clock." 

"He called earlier today while you were in the bath. Some American guy that looks like he's watched too many teeth-whitening commercials." 

"Business suit or polo shirt?" 

"Business suit. Can I take the rest of the evening off?" 

"Ah, yes. It's Seiji's birthday tomorrow, isn't it? Are you going to bake him a cake?" 

"There's leftovers in the fridge." Namie responds coldly, ignoring the question. "I'll send him in. If you need anything, call someone else." 

"Namie is so caring~." 

"Whatever." 

A moment later, his secretary is gone and the American man is standing in her place. "Please, have a seat." He gestures to one of the couches, folding up his reading glasses so he can put them back in their case. 

"Do you speak English?" The man asks in English, taking the offered seat. 

Izaya snorts. "Better than most Americans, from what I've heard." He responds, also in English. "Though obviously you speak Japanese, or you wouldn't be here." 

"Only the basics. When needed, I find a translator. Vincent Pierce-Mongtomery." The man smiles, extending his hand. "I hear you're in the business of information?" 

Izaya accepts Vincent's offered hand, taking note of the gold Rolex on his wrist and the firmness of his grip. He could tell already that this man is used to getting his way, most likely the son of a wealthy business tycoon or politician. "You heard correctly, Mr. Montgomery. Though I am curious... who told you about me?" 

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my sources. And please, call me Vincent." The man requests, the smile still on his face. "I was wondering if you'd be able to look into a few people for me?" 

"That depends. Who are they, and what am I looking for?" 

Vincent slides over a list of names, complete with ages, genders, and addresses for both their homes and schools. It's a fairly thorough list -- he can't help but wonder where he got it, especially since none of the people on the list seemed to be over the age of 15. "I'm mostly interested in their grades, talents, and I.Q test results -- if available, of course. Do you think that's doable?" 

"I don't see why not." It's not a very difficult request at all -- in fact, he'd even go so far as to consider it an easy one. "Anything else I should look out for?" 

"Nothing specific, though I would appreciate it if you could keep me informed of any strange behavior you might observe during your investigation. How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" 

Izaya blinks, the change in topic catching him off-guard. "Twenty-three, why?" 

"Just curious. You seem like an intelligent young man -- did you do well in school?" 

"Well enough, I suppose. Is there anyone on this list you'd like me to investigate first, or does it matter?" 

"It doesn't matter, do it in whichever order you like. Ever win any awards?" 

"Why do you want to know?" 

"Again, I'm just curious. I apologize if I'm making you uncomfortable." 

"You aren't." Izaya lies, feeling very much uncomfortable. "I'm just not used to clients asking me personal questions." 

"Fair enough! I suppose I'll let you get to it, then. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice." Vincent stands, adjusting his tie and jacket. "I look forward to hearing from you." 

Izaya watches him leave, frowning. There's something about the other man that rubs him the wrong way -- he just can't quite put a finger on it, and that bugs him. Accepting that there's not really anything he can do about it right now, he sighs and goes back to his paperwork.


	3. Who Watches the Watchman?

It's almost noon by the time Shizuo manages to get a hold of Celty, immediately informing her of the situation and asking if she could swing by. She agrees, arriving less than an hour later with a pair of child's pajamas she bought with some of the money leftover from her last job. [I got these for her... I figured they were better than dirty clothes or a strange man's boxer shorts.]

"Yeah, I didn't think about that. I just wanted to go the fuck to sleep." 

[I guess that's fair. You said she was being followed?] 

"I think so. There were these guys in all black that got in my face after seeing me talking to her -- they learned their lesson real quick." 

_I bet..._ Celty thinks to herself. She doesn't envy them at all. Turning her attention to the girl, she takes a good long look at her; she's thin (malnourished, even), with stringy copper hair and a pale face full of freckles. [Can you read English?] She asks with her phone. The girl, looking almost offended, nods her head. [Oh, good. That makes things a little easier. Can you speak English?] The girl hesitates before nodding her agreement, making Celty wonder if she's self-conscious about her voice or something like that. [Can you tell me your name?] 

This time, the girl shakes her head. 

[Why not?] 

Instead of answering with words, the girl pantomimes zipping her mouth shut. 

[Will you tell me anything?] 

The girl shakes her head again. 

[So just yes or no questions, then?] 

The girl nods. 

[Were those men in black after you?] 

Another nod, this one also hesitant. 

[Is that why you're here? Because you think he can protect you?] 

Another nod. 

[You're not scared of him?] 

Another shake. 

The silent conversation goes on for a few more minutes, until the girl takes the pajamas from Celty and goes to Shizuo's bathroom to change. "Learn anything?" 

[Well, she won't talk for some reason... but I did manage to find out that it was because of her that those agents or whatever they were approached you. She thinks you can protect her.] 

"So she's not scared of me?" 

Celty shakes her head. 

"Huh..." A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "That feels kinda nice, actually." 

[Do you think you can do it?] 

"I don't see why not. Tom's out of town for a family thing, so my days and nights are free right now. Besides, if she ain't gonna talk, she ain't gonna piss me off." 

[Fair enough. Do you want me to see if Shinra can swing by after work for a check-up or something?] 

"Couldn't hurt anything." 

[Alright. I'll try and pick up a few more things for her when I get paid tomorrow.] 

"Thanks, Celty. You're a good person, you know that?" 

If she could blush, she would. [Hush, you. I'm just trying to help.] The door to the bathroom opens and the girl comes back out, handing Shizuo back his clothes. The pajamas are still a little big on her, but they're definitely an improvement. [My friend has agreed to take care of you while we figure things out. His name is Shizuo. He can be scary sometimes, but he's a good person at heart. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?] 

The girl nods. 

[Do you need anything else before I leave?] 

There's a pause as the girl seems to debate that question, eventually nodding once more and pantomiming taking a helmet off before pointing up at where Celty's face should be. 

[Promise you won't scream?] 

Smiling, the girl nods. Celty takes hold of her helmet, hesitating for a second before shyly pulling it off -- but instead of screaming or running away, the girl's smile actually brightens, her hands reaching out for the helmet. Almost in shock, she gives it to her, watching as the girl giggles and plops it onto her tiny head. 

"She's something, isn't she?" Shizuo asks. 

Celty signs 'yes' with her fist, looking back at the girl. In a way, she looks even more like a fairy than Celty herself does. Gesturing for the girl to give her back her helmet, she puts it on and types up a goodbye for each of them. [I'll text you when I get an answer from Shinra.] 

"Alright, drive safe." Shizuo says, waving before wandering into the kitchen to find something to eat. He still has a few boxes of cereal left, the kind with the strawberry frosting that melts in your mouth; it's not the cheapest, but it's his favorite. He pours some of it into two plastic bowls, adding milk and a spoon to each. Setting one down in front of the girl, he sits cross-legged on the floor and starts to shovel it into his mouth. 

Starving, the girl follows suit. 

_11pm, in Ikebukuro..._

Vincent Pierce-Montgomery sits in the empty karaoke booth, checking his watch for what seems like the hundredth time. The man he's supposed to be meeting is already thirty minutes late; if he wasn't such a patient man, he'd have left after the first five. 

There's a loud knock on the door, followed by two more even louder knocks before it opens and a young, rough-looking local steps in. He's wearing a open sleeveless vest made of black fur, a pair of camoflauge cargo pants, and dirty black combat boots; if his skills as a hacker and infiltrator aren't any better than his sense of time or fashion, he's going to have a long, angry word with the man who referred him. "You're late." 

"Way I see, you're early." He grins, looking more like a beast baring its teeth than a man with a smile on his face. Vincent is starting to understand why they call him Jackal. "But I'm here now, ain't I? So how 'bout we get down to business?" He takes the seat across from him, stretching his feet out on the table between them. "What does a fancy American executive like you want with an unsavory man like me, huh?" 

"An associate of mine says you're unrivaled when it comes to hacking and infiltration. There's someone I want information on." 

"Oh yeah? Well, I'd hate to make a liar out of someone saying such nice things about me. Who's the target?" 

"Have you ever heard of Izaya Orihara? He's an informant in Shinjuku I hired earlier today. I want to know more about him." 

"An informant, huh? You ain't gonna hire someone to stalk me next, are you?" 

"Don't worry, you don't fit the profile." 

"I'll take that as a compliment. What do you want on him?" 

"I want his school and medical records, as well as an I.Q test if he's ever done one. I also want to know if he's ever received any awards or special recognition." 

"That's it? Just get you his records and we're done?" 

"Hardly. I also want you to study him. Find out his likes and dislikes, his sleep patterns, behavior patterns, etcetera. I want to know him inside and out." 

"You want the color of his underwear, too? Maybe a pic of his sleeping face for you to shoot your load on?" 

"I assure you, my interests are purely professional." 

"Sure they are, blondie. Sure they are." He stands up, offering the other man his hand. "Let's be real good friends, yeah?" 

"Yes." Vincent responds, gripping the other man's hand firmly. "Let's." 

The two men shake hands, then go their separate ways.


	4. Clashing

Shizuo is not the kind of person you can shock easily. Being able to lift entire refrigerators before he even reached the double digits, he's gotten used to seeing, hearing about, or even being a part of strange shit... still, every now and then, something happens that leaves even him speechless.

It had started with Celty getting back to him, letting him know she and Shinra were on their way. There had been a short game of Charades where he'd tried to communicate that to the girl, but after several failed attempts, he eventually just gives up and takes a shower; Celty and Shinra arrive about thirty minutes later, Shizuo letting them in as soon as he hears the knock. 

The moment she sees Shinra, her face turns the same shade of white that it had when she'd noticed the guards in the airport, the girl immediately running into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her. When five minutes pass and she still hasn't come back out, Shizuo goes to open the door -- only it won't budge. He yanks on the handle, but all he manages to do is pull it right out of the socket; confused, he stares down at the knob in his hand before looking over to Celty and Shinra. "I... can't open it?" 

"That's... interesting..." Shinra says, his glance moving from the knob in Shizuo's hand to the hole in the door it had come out of, the look in his eyes one of both wonder and curiosity. 

"Why the fuck can't I open it? It makes no fucking sense!" 

"Don't look at me, I don't know the answer to that either." Shinra goes over to the door and kneels down, peeking in through the hole. There aren't any windows in Shizuo's bathroom, but he still can't see the girl; it's possible she's managed to find an angle to sit where she can be out of view, but something tells him that Ocam's Razor most likely isn't going to apply in this particular situation. He switches from Japanese to English, hoping his accent isn't so atrocious that the girl wouldn't be able to understand him (it's been a while since he's practiced.) "Hello! My name is Shinra. I'm sorry I scared you... will you please come out?" 

Silence. 

"My friends want me to help you. Can you trust them?" 

There's another moment of silence before the door slowly squeaks open, the girl warily poking her head out. She seems to hesitate when she sees Shinra, her eyes glued to his labcoat; noticing that, he takes it off and lays it on Shizuo's futon. Almost immediately, the girl relaxes. "Well, that answers that question." 

[Do you think she was experimented on or something?] 

"It's definitely a possibility." Shinra grabs his medical kit from where he set it on the floor, taking out his stethescope and a thermometer before motioning for the girl to sit on the futon. She does as she's told, patiently letting him take her temperature and check her breathing and heartbeat despite how obviously scared she still is. "You're brave." He tells her, scribbling her vitals down on a piece of notebook paper before turning to Shizuo. "I may need your help with the next part." 

"Why?" 

"I want to take a blood sample." 

"Again, why?" 

"We don't know where she came from _or_ how she got here. The chances that she might have been exposed to a virus or infection aren't exactly the lowest." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right..." 

"I often am." He digs through his kit until he finds bandages, syringes, and a rubber tie. When he turns back to the girl with them in hand, her eyes widen and she begins to shake her head vigorously. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't do this if I didn't think it were necessary." He says, motioning for Shizuo to grab her before she can bolt into the bathroom again. The blonde goes to do so, his fingers miliseconds away from wrapping around her tiny wrist... 

**_*WHAM!*_**

Shizuo's back hits the wall, the impact strong enough to knock the wind right out of him. Dazed, he slides to the floor and tries to process what has just happened -- he hadn't seen the girl move or felt her touch him, yet somehow she'd managed to send him flying. "What the hell?" 

"She's _telekinetic!"_ Shinra blurts out, unable to contain his excitement. "Telekinetic! Amazing! Absolutely amazing!" 

[You're going to scare her even more if you keep on like that!] 

"Wait, you're saying she flung me across the room with her goddamn _mind?"_ Shizuo asks, incredulous. 

"Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying!" 

"Holy fuck." Shizuo still can't quite believe it. Turning his attention back to the girl, he notices blood trickling from her nose. "Oh, shit..." He picks himself up off the ground and grabs some toilet paper from the bathroom, holding it out to her; she snatches it from his hand and backs up, wiping her face while watching him warily. "Her nose is bleeding." 

"Mental strain, most likely. I guess we're going to have to wait on those blood tests." Shinra puts the syringes and other supplies back into his medical kit. "Other than that and her size, she seems mostly healthy... just make sure she stays hydrated and gets plenty of protein." 

"Can do." 

"Then I guess we shall be on our way!" He picks up his lab coat and slings it over his arm. "Ready, my love?" He asks Celty. 

Ignoring him, she places two plastic shopping bags in front of the girl. [These are for you. I'll come visit again soon, alright?] The girl nods, Celty waving goodbye to both her and Shizuo before following Shinra out the door. 

"Well, guess it's just you and me now, kid. I guess I should probably feed you, huh? Not that you can understand what I'm saying or anything." Shizuo says, scratching his head. All the girl does is blink up at him. "Yeah, I think we're gonna get along great." He chuckles to himself, going into the kitchen so he can figure out what to do for dinner. 

_Around the same time, Shinjuku..._

Izaya relaxes as he sinks into the warm water, closing his eyes as he lets all of the tension leave his body. Baths are one of the few of life's little pleasures he doesn't mind indulging in on a regular basis; sometimes he'll even add bubbles or Epsom salt, though more often than not he doesn't care enough to actually use anything other than simple shampoo and body wash. He sniffles, feeling what at first he assumes to be his nose running; it isn't until he goes to wipe his face off that he realizes it's blood, not snot. "What the hell?" He frowns, staring down at the red-stained tissue. He hasn't had a bloody nose since he was in middle school, and he can't think of a single reason why he should have one now. 

_Maybe it's stress?_

Sighing, he tilts his head back and pinches his nose, staying like that until the blood has had enough time to finish clotting. Crumpling up the dirty kleenex and tossing it into the waste basket, Izaya pauses when he notices the notification light on his phone blinking; making sure both of his hands are completely dry before even trying to touch its screen, he picks up his phone from its spot on the back of the toilet and curiously opens a new message from a number he doesn't recognize. 

_'hello, sexy'_

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, typing up a response to his mystery texter. _'Oopsie~! I think you have the wrong number, friend~!'_

_'what are you wearing right now?'_

_'Oh, dear. Did my text not send? I said that you have the wrong number. Are you absolutely sure you put it in correctly?'_

_'what color underwear do you have on?'_

_'You do understand what 'wrong number' means, don't you? Who exactly do you think this is?'_

_'i don't think, i know :)'_

_'I highly doubt that, friend.'_

_'it's true, though. i know who you are'_

_'Alright, then what's my name?'_

_'izaya orihara :)'_

That is not the answer he wanted, not in the slightest. _'....Who is this?'_

_'i like to think ur not wearing anything at all. are you, izaya orihara?'_

Suddenly painfully aware of his own nakedness, Izaya doesn't feel so relaxed anymore. He pulls the plug to start draining the tub, grabbing his towel off the rack so he can hastily dry himself off and get dressed. When he gets back to his phone, he's a little disturbed to find that he has several missed messages, all from the same mystery number. 

_'orihara-kun?'_

_'hello?'_

_'u still there?'_

_'did i make you uncomfortable?'_

_'i'd like to think i did'_

_'i bet you make the cutest faces when you're uncomfortable :)'_

Izaya might have just gotten out of the bath, but he's already starting to feel like he needs a shower. _'If this is a joke, it isn't very funny.'_

_'r u a virgin?'_

Instead of dignifying the mystery texter with a response, Izaya decides it's best to just shut off his phone. Whoever they are, they're obviously trying to get under his skin... and he doesn't plan on giving them the satisfaction of knowing they've succeeded. Humming the theme song to some anime he can't remember the name of, he wanders into his kitchen to find something to eat for dinner.


	5. Secrets

It had been two whole days since the girl started staying with him, but Shizuo still hadn't seen a single sign that the people after her knew he was involved. It's the middle of the third night when that changes, the bodyguard mid-snore; if it hadn't been for the girl splashing cold water on his face, he wouldn't have woken up in time to hear the sound of the lock on his front door being picked. Gesturing for her to hide in the bathroom, Shizuo closes his eyes and pretends to still be asleep. It isn't until he feels the knife on his throat that he moves, seizing the intruder's wrist and twisting it until he drops his weapon. Wrapping his other hand around their neck, Shizuo rips off their mask to reveal the same fake guard who'd threatened him at the airport. "I really, really, really, really, really hate being snuck up on, do you understand?" He asks, squeezing. "The only reason I haven't killed you already is because I don't want to be a bad role model. So how about I make you a deal, huh?" He loosens his grip, his would-be murderer gasping for air. "You answer a few questions for me, and maybe I'll let you go. Sound good?"

The man nods, swallowing thickly. 

"Good. First question -- who's your boss?" 

"V-Vincent Pierce-Montgomery." 

"A foreigner, huh? He the one who told you to slit my throat?" 

"Y-yes." 

"Kay, second question -- why did he hire you?" 

The frightened captive decides it's best not to point out that, technically, that was his third question. "To capture the girl at all costs." 

"Why?" 

"I-I don't really know, only that she escaped from one of the American facilities and was somehow able to board a plane to Narita International. I promise, I don't know anything other than that; even our head of operations doesn't know, and she's the one directly under him." 

"Head of operations? What operation?" 

"P-Project Stargate. Please don't kill me." 

"Why, you got a wife and kids at home?" 

"No, I-I just don't want to die." He all but sobs, pride mattering far less than his life. 

"Alrighty, then... since you've been so nice and cooperative, I'll let you go. But you gotta do me a favor, you hear me? You go tell that foreign boss of yours that if he wants that girl, he's gonna have to go through me. Got it?" 

The unfortunate agent nods once more. 

"Great." He lets go, the man immediately scrambling for the door. "And don't let me catch you in my fucking city again!" 

The man is happy to oblige. 

_The morning after, Shinjuku..._

Izaya yawns and takes a sip from his cup of coffee. It's the fourth morning in a row he's woken up exhausted and terrified, more of those vivid nightmares keeping him from sleeping for any decent amount of time. 

"That smarmy-looking foreign man is here, asking to see you. I told him he needed to make an appointment, but he keeps insisting. Should I send him in, or call the police?" 

He sighs. "Go ahead and send him in." 

Vincent walks in a few seconds later, the smile on his face exactly the same as the one he wore last time. "Mister Orihara, a pleasure to see you again." He offers his hand for him to shake, Izaya hesitating slightly before taking it. 

_Even his grip is exactly the same. How boring._

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Montgomery?" 

"Again, please... call me Vincent. I was wondering if you knew anything about a man named Shizuo Heiwajima?" He asks, intrigued by the way Izaya seems to stiffen the moment the name starts to leave his lips. "A few of my people had a run-in with him. They claimed he had super-strength -- I found it incredibly hard to believe." 

"Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. This is one of those times." Izaya tells him, a sour look on his face. "Shizu-chan is a monster. He claims to hate violence, but he doesn't respond to reason -- there's no winning with him." 

_Shizu-chan?_

"I take it you know him well?" 

"Nope, never met him! That's just what they say on all the message boards." 

"So you don't _actually_ know if it's true or not?" 

"Wouldn't it be cool if it were, though?" 

"I suppose so." 

"In any case, I'm afraid there's nothing more I can tell you. Sorry!" 

"Don't apologize, I'm thankful you were willing to humor me at all. Before I go, I forgot to give you my phone number. I ask that you keep me updated about everything you find." He pulls out a business card and slides it over to him. "Is there anything you need from me to make your job easier?" 

Izaya's phone vibrates hard enough that it falls off the desk, the brunette catching it without thinking. "Not that I can think of, no..." He says, his voice trailing off when he sees the number attached to the text. It's not a number he recognizes, but something tells him that he already knows who it's from; he opens the message, his stomach dropping when his suspicions are confirmed. 

_'hey sexy ;)'_

"Is something wrong?" 

"No, nothing." He lies, setting his phone face-down on the desk. "Have a good evening, Mister Montgomery." 

"Have a good evening, Mister Orihara." Vincent leaves, waiting until he's in the elevator before taking out his phone and dialing Jackal's number. 

_'Heya, blondie. Need something from me?'_

"Have you ever heard of a man named Shizuo Heiwajima?" 

_'Ain't a person that lives in Ikebukuro who hasn't. Why? You wanna arm wrestle him? I'm tellin' you now, that's probably not a good idea. The guy can rip telephone poles out of the ground.'_

"So the rumors are true?" 

_'Oh yeah, they're true. You stick around long enough, you might even get to see it first-hand.'_

"What else have you heard about him?" 

_'Nothing, that's it. Want me to do a little digging?'_

"Yes, please." 

_'Alright. I'll let you know what I find out.'_

"I look forward to it." Vincent hangs up, stepping out of the elevator into the first floor lobby. His stomach growls, alerting him to the fact that he hasn't had dinner. 

_Now, where's the closest sushi restaurant?_


	6. Lies

"The Stargate Project? Are you absolutely sure that's what he said?" Shinra asks, frowning and adjusting his glasses. He and Celty are currently sitting on Shizuo's futon, waiting for the girl to get out of the bath; Celty had brought her some strawberry-scented body wash and shampoo, and she had liked the smell so much that she'd immediately started to fill the tub so she could try them out.

_Maybe next time I should bring her bubble bath..._

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why, you heard of it?" 

"Yes, actually -- that's why I find it so strange." 

[Strange? How is it strange?] 

"'The Stargate Project' was one of several code names given to a secret American military unit established in the late 1970's in response to rumors that had begun to circulate about Russia spending millions on psychic research. The unit was incredibly small, comprised of maybe 15, 20 people at most -- it was defunded and declassified in the mid-90's, the C.I.A deciding it was no longer worth the resources. It shouldn't exist _anywhere,_ let alone here in Japan." 

[That is pretty strange...] 

"So, what... you think the guy lied?" 

"Considering the fact that there's a scared little girl with psychic capabilities currently splashing away in your bathtub, I think it's far more likely that it's the _C.I.A_ that did. It wouldn't be the first time a government agency lied about what they were doing. Who did he say he worked for, again?" 

"I don't remember exactly, it was some weird foreign name. Vi-something?" 

"Vick? Vicky? Victor?" 

"No, it wasn't any of those." 

"Virgil? Viggo? Vince? Vincent?" 

"Say that last one again?" 

"Vincent?" 

"That one. That's it, I know it. 'Vincent.'" 

"Now that we have a name, we can get a number." 

[How? His number probably isn't available to the public.] 

"True, but it might be available to specific individuals... and if that's the case, there are only a couple people I can think of who are likely to be one." 

[Like who?] 

"Yeah, like who? Anyone I know?" 

"..." 

"Shinra?" 

".........." 

"Like _who,_ Shinra?" Shizuo repeats, narrowing his eyes. "Because I _know_ you're not about to suggest we ask that goddamn fucking _parasite_ for help, right?" 

"Look, I know you don't like him, but -- " 

"No. No buts, Shinra. We are not involving him, end of fucking story. You said you could think of a couple people, right? Who's the other one?" 

[Please tell me it's not who I think it is...] 

"Other than Izaya, he's our only option." 

[I think I'd prefer Izaya.] 

"Yeah, well, _I_ wouldn't." Shizuo growls, crossing his arms. 

"You say that now..." Shinra mumbles, his voice strained. "I guess I'll call him, then... with any luck, maybe he won't answer." Flipping through the contacts on his phone, he finds the one he needs and presses the Call button. 

Unfortunately, luck is not on his side. 

_'Shingen speaking!'_

"Damn it." 

_'Shinra? Is that you?'_

He sighs. "Yes, it's me." 

_'Ha, I knew I recognized your voice! Even if it has been months and months since I last heard it... have you called to check on your beloved father?"_

"As delusional as ever, I see!" Shinra interrupts with a forced cheerfulness, having no patience for the older Kishitani's nonsense. "I'm calling because I need information. Have you ever heard of the Stargate Project?" 

_'Ah, the men who stare at goats! A fascinating movie visually, but I always thought that the writer had a fundamental misunderstanding of how parapsychology -- '_

"Do you know if they were really declassified like the C.I.A said? Do you think they could have continued on in secret?" 

_'If I told you, I'd have to kill you! Hahahahaha!'_

"So that's a yes, then. Has Nebula ever had dealings with the people in charge?" 

_'Hmmm...'_

"Do you at least happen to know if anyone there has spoken with a man named 'Vincent' recently?" 

_'Hmmmmmm... Vincent, Vincent, Vincent... nope, doesn't ring a bell!'_

"Would you actually tell me if it did?" 

_'What, don't you trust your own father? I'm disappointed in you, Shi --'_

He hangs up. "Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time!" 

[Nothing?] 

"Nothing useful, at least."

"So what the hell do we do now?" 

"Well, we _could_ still ask -- " 

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?" Shizuo cuts him off, his fists clenched. "'cause if so, you're gettin' pretty damn close to succeeding." 

"Alright, alright, sorry! I'll drop it... but it does mean we're back to square one." 

"Shit..." 

[Don't worry, we'll figure something out.] 

"I sure hope so." 

The three of them fall silent, staying that way until the bathroom door opens and the cause of this entire situation sticks her head out. 

_Meanwhile, Nebula Industries..._

"Sorry about that!" Shingen tells his guest, putting his phone back into the pocket of his labcoat. "Now, what we were talking about, again?" 

"We _were_ talking about that list of potential test subjects you gave my father, but right now I am much more curious about the conversation you just had. That was your son?" 

"Indeed! Shinra is a passionate, intelligent, and incredibly attractive young man -- he definitely takes after his father, if I do say so myself!" 

"Clearly..." 

"Though I can't help but wonder exactly how you caught his attention... it's rare for him to be interested in anything other than my future daughter-in-law." 

"I can't help but wonder the same thing, actually." Vincent responds, taking a sip of the tea Shingen's assistant had prepared for them. "Do you happen to know if he's aquainted with a man named Shizuo Heiwajima?" 

"Ah, Shizuo! Such an interesting human being, I'd love to get a hold of his body! For research purposes only, of course -- I may be wearing women's underwear, but that doesn't mean I want to be manhandled!" 

"I... see..." Vincent tries to pretend he didn't hear that last part. "So you know him?" 

"Indeed! My son and him have actually been friends since elementary school." 

_How interesting..._

"Does your son have a lot of friends?" 

"No, not at all. He's far too devoted to science and Celty for that -- in fact, other than Shizuo, I think his only other friend is Izaya-kun!" 

"Wait... your son is friends with both Shizuo Heiwajima _and_ Izaya Orihara?" 

"Yep! They all went to the same high school, along with some other boy whose name I never cared enough to learn. I'm surprised Shinra survived them, to be honest." 

"Survived who?" 

"Shizuo and Izaya-kun, of course!" Shingen answers, as if Vincent should have been able to assume that from what little information he'd been given. "I certainly wouldn't have wanted to get in-between those two, not even on a good day!" 

"What do you mean?" Vincent asks, narrowing his eyes. He had, of course, suspected that Izaya had been lying... he had, however, also hoped that it was just the standard paranoia of a man used to keeping secrets. 

"Those boys have hated each other since the moment they met; when my son first introduced them, it apparently took only thirty seconds for them to start trying to kill each other. Isn't that romantic?" 

_I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what the word 'romantic' means..._

"Speaking of Izaya..." Shingen adjusts his gas-mask, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Did my information help you find what you were looking for?" 

"Yes, actually. It's proved incredibly beneficial so far." 

"Ah, good, good... could you come closer? I want to tell you a secret." 

Slightly uncomfortable with the idea, Vincent leans forward. 

"Closer!" 

Hesitating, Vincent leans forward a little more. 

"No, closer!" 

Half-tempted to just walk out on this strange, real life example of the mad scientist stereotype, he leans forward even more and tilts his head so Shingen can whisper into his ear. "I don't care what you do with Shizuo or Izaya -- but if Shinra gets hurt because of you, I'll make sure you don't live long enough to regret it. Do you understand?" 

"Of course. I have no desire to involve your son in any of this." Vincent responds, his perfect smile never once wavering. "Thank you for everything you've told me today. It has been... enlightening." He stands up, offering the man his hand. 

Shingen takes it, shaking it firmly. "Be careful who you poke, Mr. Montgomery! Literally _and_ figuratively." 

"I'm always careful, Mr. Kishitani." Vincent leaves, waiting until he's out of the room to send a text to Jackal. _'I just learned something interesting.'_

_'oh yeah?'_

_'It turns out that Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara absolutely despise each other.'_

_'so izaya lied about knowing him, huh?'_

_'Yes, and I want you to find out why.'_

_'ill get right on it'_

_'Keep me updated.'_ Vincent slips his phone back into his pocket and goes out to where his driver is waiting, sliding into the back seat. 

"Where to now, Sir?" 

"My hotel, please." 

The driver nods, backing up so he can turn around. Vincent leans back against the expensive leather seats of his rental car, settling in for what he hopes shouldn't be too long a ride; he has a lunch meeting in an hour, and he'd really like to take a shower first. 


	7. Like a Game of Roulette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Thanks for following along so far. I don't want to ramble on too much, but I did want to give you guys a heads-up -- this chapter gets pretty triggery, so please try and keep that in mind while you read. Anyway, um... I hope you like it? ^_^;;
> 
>  
> 
> PS: the next few updates on this and SCaStS might take longer, as finals are next week and I really need to study for my Chem 1 exam or I'm not gonna pass the class. Wish me luck! ;w;

Izaya's phone buzzes for what seems like the hundredth time, causing him to sigh and put the cap back on his highlighter. Checking his text messages has started to feel like a game of Russian Roulette; even though there's about a seventy-five percent chance that it's a client or aquaintance, the _other_ twenty-five percent... 

_'hey sexy ;)'_

When he doesn't answer right away, his phone buzzes again; it's the fourth he's switched to today, and still not a single one has turned out to be secure. Sighing, he shuts it off and retrieves a fifth phone from the box of spares he keeps in his bedroom closet -- not even a minute after he turns it on, he gets a notification telling him that he has yet _another_ new text from yet _another_ unknown number. 

_'u know, its not very nice to ignore people :('_

_'It's not very nice to sexually harass them, either.'_ Izaya types back, finally freaked out enough to say something. _'What exactly are you hoping to achieve by doing this?'_

_'maybe i just wanna get to know u'_

_'Do you honestly expect me to believe that?'_

_'its tru tho'_

_'What. Do. You. Want?'_

_'to be ur friend :)'_

_'How naive do you think I am?'_

_'u should really learn how to take a compliment >:('_

_'You should really learn how to give one!'_

_'what if i was shizu-chan? would u take it then?'_

_'the compliment, that is >;)'_

Izaya has to try very, very, _very_ hard not to let the very _mention_ of the beast push him over the edge. _'What exactly are you trying to insinuate?'_

_' >;)'_

There's another buzz, this time in the form of a multimedia message. He knows he probably shouldn't open it, but his common sense has never stood much of a chance against his curiosity; he regrets it the moment it finishes loading, disgust churning his stomach when he sees what is undeniably the picture of a very large, very _erect_ penis. _'You better PRAY I don't find out who you are, because when I do, I'm going to kill you in the most agonizing way I can think of... and I have a VERY vivid imagination.'_

_'so do i ;P'_

_'You don't scare me.'_

_'but shizu-chan does, doesnt he? :)'_

_'Shizu-chan has nothing to do with this.'_

_'do u think hes ever jerked off to the thought of raping u?'_

Shutting _that_ phone off, Izaya switches over to a sixth one. He doesn't bother putting the box back. 

_'its not like ud be able to stop him if he really wanted 2'_

And then a seventh. 

_'do you think hed force u 2 suck his cock first?'_

And an eighth. 

_'how many phones r u gonna try before u give up?'_

And a ninth. 

_'im like an std, baby. u cant get rid of me that easy ;)'_

His tenth and final phone is the one he keeps around for paranoia's sake; he never even bothered to set up its voice mailbox, let alone give out its number. He unravels the charger and plugs it in to the closest socket, turning it on once it has enough battery power to function. When several minutes have gone by and he hasn't received any more text messages, he starts to believe he might actually be safe... 

...and then, the phone starts to ring. 

And ring. 

And ring. 

It rings until Izaya can't take it anymore, letting out a frustrated screech and pitching it at the wall as hard as he can. The impact shatters the screen and sends the battery skittering halfway across the room, but it does nothing to make him feel any better; the only time he can remember feeling even a _fraction_ as creeped out as he is right now was when the informant called Tsukumoya had somehow managed to get his hands on a video game he'd designed in high school... despite the fact that he'd given the only copy of it to Shinra. There's a moment where he wonders if it could actually _be_ Tsukumoya sending the texts, but from the conversations he's had with him in the past, he just can't imagine him stooping this low. 

_What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?_

Pacing back and forth, Izaya wracks his brain for ideas. Asking Tsukumoya for information isn't possible, because he doesn't want to risk the chance that his mystery stalker might be able to hack into his private network; if he somehow managed to find out the passwords to his various email accounts, it could ruin _everything._

"Come on, Izaya, think! You can't use your computer, you can't use your phone, and you don't know how he's doing it but you're pretty sure you're being monitored. You have to figure out _something_ to do, now _focus..."_ He closes his eyes. 

_You live on the ninth floor. It's unlikely he's broken in to one of the other suites, which means he'd need equipment with a ridiculously long range; an amateur wouldn't be able to afford that kind of thing, let alone know how to use it without getting caught..._

Vincent is the only person he can think of that might have had the money to buy it, the intelligence to use it, _and_ the chance to place it in his office... but it couldn't be him, either, because the American hadn't even had his phone in his hand when Izaya had gotten the message during the meeting. 

_Maybe it's someone working for him? He did seem oddly interested in learning about me after our first encounter..._

Whatever the case may be, it's not safe for him to be here anymore. Grabbing his jacket and keys from off the hook next to the door, Izaya leaves for Ikebukuro.


	8. Tangled Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying.

_"You have to experience this to believe me. I'm afraid to walk outside, I need help; I don't know how to deal with this, it's so strange. I'm frightened to go to sleep. What if they come back...?"_

Celty shudders, currently curled up on the couch while The Fourth Kind plays on the big-screen T.V in front of her. It's not that she's _afraid_ of aliens, per say -- but the movie claimed to be based on true events, and just the thought of getting abducted gives her the jitters. 

**_*DING DONG!*_**

She jumps, startled by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Pausing the movie, Celty gets up to go see who it is; normally she'd let Shinra answer it, but he's in the shower and she has no idea how much longer he's going to take. Luckily, her visitors aren't anyone she doesn't already know -- she unlocks the door, opening it to let Shizuo and the little redheaded girl into the apartment. 

"Where's Shinra?" Shizuo asks, glancing around. 

[Shower. Did something happen?] 

"I got a phone call from some woman claiming to work for Vincent. She wants to meet in person." 

[That's suspicious...] 

"I know. That's why I need you guys to keep an eye on the kid for me... there's no way I'm gonna take her with, but there's no way I'm leaving her alone in my apartment either." 

[Understandable. Let me go ask Shinra.] 

"Kay." 

When Celty comes back, a dripping wet Shinra is with her. [He says it's okay, but he wants more information.] 

"Like what?" 

"Like what was her name, where are you meeting her, how long is it going to be?" Shinra asks. 

"Didn't say, Russia Sushi, no idea." 

"Why Russia Sushi?" 

"She let me pick the place. Figured a neutral spot like that'd be the best for this sort of thing." 

"Look at you, using your brain for once -- just kidding, just kidding!" Shinra says when he sees Shizuo start to step threateningly towards him, immediately putting his hands up in a gesture of peace. "It's a good idea, though; a public restaurant would make it difficult for her to try anything sneaky, and Simon's presence alone is generally enough to make people think twice about starting a fight. How did this woman react when you suggested it?" 

"I dunno, I guess she sounded a little relieved." 

"Which means she was probably thinking the same thing you were. I'm interested to hear about how this meeting goes." 

"I'll tell you when I get back. I gotta get going, the whole thing's really last minute." 

[Text us if you need anything.] 

"Alrighty." Shizuo turns to the girl, kneeling down so he's at her eye level. "I know you don't understand me, but I promise I'll be back. You be good, okay?" He smiles, gently ruffling the girl's hair. She giggles and reaches up, doing the same to his. 

[Please be careful, Shizuo...] 

"I'll do my best, but I ain't making any promises. See ya later." He waves before heading out the door, leaving them to try and figure out how to entertain their strange little guest. 

[Are you hungry?] Celty asks her, receiving a vigorous nod in response. [I'll make you something to eat, come on.] She holds out her hand for the girl to take, leading her into the kitchen. 

"I'm going to hop back in the shower real quick so I can finish washing my hair. I shouldn't be more than a couple minutes." 

[Okay. We'll be here.] She says. [Have you ever had ramen?] She asks the girl, who shakes her head. [Do you want to try it? I can make it with just the noodles and broth, or I can add an egg and maybe some beef. I think we have some green onions, too... does that sound okay?] 

She nods, taking a seat at the table so she can watch Celty cook. By the time the ramen is ready, Shinra has finished his shower and joined them in the kitchen. "Yummm, Celty's cooking! You made enough for me too, right~?" 

Ignoring him, Celty sets the bowl of food down in front of the girl. [Do you want something to drink?] 

The girl pauses mid-bite to nod, causing some of the noodles to slip out of her mouth and splash back into the bowl. Celty grabs a napkin from the holder and gives it to her so she can wipe off her face, then retrieves a glass from the cupboard. [Is water okay?] 

Another nod. 

Celty fills the glass with water from the sink and sets it down next to the bowl, the girl immediately picking it up and gulping the liquid down thirstily before going back to her meal. 

**_*DING DONG!*_**

Suddenly, the girl stops eating; furrowing her brow, she tilts her head as if listening to something far away. 

"I wonder who it is now?" 

[It's way too soon to be Shizuo.] 

"Which means it's someone else. Hopefully it's just a client that needs to get patched up -- I'll go check." Making his way over to the front door, he opens it to find a familiar face. "Orihara-kun?" 

"Oh good, you're home." Izaya lets out a sigh of relief, visibily relaxing. "Can I come in?" 

Shinra wants to say no, he really does... but something about the look in the other man's eyes tells him that he shouldn't. Sighing, he steps aside so Izaya can enter. "You could have called first, you know." 

"No, I couldn't have." 

"Why not? You have a phone on you, right?" 

"No, actually. I don't." 

"Why not?" 

"It's a long story..." 

Now that he's gotten a good look at him, it's obvious that there's something very, very wrong; there's no smile on Izaya's face, no energy in his voice, no color in his cheeks... and Shinra can't help but notice the way his hands are shaking as he fidgets with the fur on the hem of his jacket, as if it's taking every ounce of his willpower just to hold himself together. "Have a seat on the couch if you like, I'm going to go tell Celty you're here." He heads back into the kitchen, frowning as he tries to make sense of his friend's strange behavior. 

[What's wrong?] Celty asks when she sees his expression. [Who was at the door?] 

"Orihara-kun... I think." 

[You think?] 

"Well, it _looks_ like Orihara-kun, and it _sounds_ like Orihara-kun, but that's about as far as the similarities go." 

"'It' can hear you, you kn..." 

Celty and Shinra turn to find Izaya standing in the doorway, his eyes locked on those of the little ginger girl. It's almost like they're engaged in some sort of strange staring contest; Shinra is about to clear his throat to get their attention when they both simultaneously turn to look at him, their movements so in sync that it actually manages to creep him out enough to forget what he was going to say. 

"Who is this?" Izaya asks, pointing to her. "I wasn't aware you two had decided to adopt." 

[She's not ours!] Celty waves her hands frantically, slightly embarrassed by the insinuation. [We're watching her for a friend!] 

"Anyone I know?" 

"..." 

[...] 

The awkward silence is answer enough. "Ah. I see..." Izaya sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Just my luck..." 

Celty is starting to understand what Shinra meant; she's never been the biggest fan of the informant, but even she has to admit that his attitude is a little concerning. [What's going on?] 

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be here." 

"Why _are_ you here, Orihara-kun?" 

"Because I didn't know where else to go." 

"What do you mean? Are you hiding from someone?" 

"That's one way to put it..." 

"How would _you_ put it, then?" 

"I... it's... complicated." Izaya answers, staring down at his fingers as he continues to fidget with the fur on his hem. "I should probably go before Shizu-chan comes back, shouldn't I? I'll go... somewhere." He turns to leave, only to find his path blocked by the same little girl he could have _sworn_ hadn't moved from her seat. "Can I help you?" 

_"Don't go."_

"I'm sorry?" 

_"You can't go."_

"I'm afraid I don't really have much of a choice." 

She shakes her head. _"It's not safe for you to go. You have to stay here."_

"It's not safe for me here, either." 

_"He won't hurt you. He can't."_

"Is that so?" 

The girl nods. 

"Um... Orihara-kun?" Shinra is staring at him with an incredibly confused expression. "What are you doing?" 

"Having a conversation with your little friend here, obviously." 

Shinra and Celty exchange a look. 

"What? What is it?" 

[We didn't hear her say anything.] 

"We've _never_ heard her say anything, in fact. We don't even know her name, she won't tell it to us." 

[She also doesn't understand Japanese...] 

Frowning, Izaya looks down at the girl. "How is that possible?" 

[Maybe she's not speaking out loud?] 

"So what, she's in my head?" Izaya snorts, an eyebrow raised. "I find that unlikely." 

Celty and Shinra exchange another look. 

"What?" 

[It's not as unlikely as you might think.] 

"What do you mean?" 

[She's a very special girl.] 

"Special? How so?" 

"Let's just say that if she wants you to stay, there's not much Shizuo-kun can do about it. What I'm curious about is, if she can communicate telepathically, why wasn't she willing to do so with us or Shizuo-kun?" Shinra asks, stroking his chin. "She's never even met you before." 

[That's a good question...] 

"Agreed. I don't suppose you'd be willing to explain?" Izaya asks the girl. She shakes her head, making the same lip-zipping gesture she'd made when Celty had asked her why she wouldn't tell her what her name is. "Of course not, that would be too ea...sy..." His voice trails off, a strange tingling sensation at the back of his neck causing him to instinctively look towards the front door. "Shit." 

"What is it?" 

"He's here..." 

"How do you know? I didn't hear the -- " 

**_*DING DONG!*_**

" -- doorbell." Shinra finishes, glancing curiously at Izaya before going to see who it is. Sure enough, it's Shizuo. 

_Interesting..._

He thinks he's starting to figure out just how Izaya is involved in all this... and if his suspicions are correct, things are about to get a lot more complicated.


	9. A Theory

Shizuo is in a very, very, _very_ bad mood.

It had started with him showing up to Russia Sushi, only to wait there for nearly thirty minutes without a single person approaching him (other than Simon, of course, who had badgered him into trying some weird new sushi dish that had turned out to be incredibly spicy -- and he is _not_ a fan of spicy.) He didn't have a way to contact the woman at all, either, because the number she'd used was private; by the time he gives up and starts heading back to Shinra's, his patience is already wearing thin. That's why, when Shinra opens the front door and the familiar stink of Izaya _fucking_ Orihara assaults his nostrils, he doesn't even _try_ to control himself. Pushing past his friend into the apartment, he all but charges through the hallway -- but before he can reach the living room, the little girl steps out in front of him and he finds himself quite literally frozen in place. "What the hell?" 

"Believe it or not, Orihara-kun isn't here to cause trouble." Shinra informs him hastily, not wanting to waste this chance to explain the situation without having to worry about the larger man snapping and killing him. "Something has him spooked -- I don't know what, but I suspect that it's related to our little friend here. If that's the case, than we have no choice but to involve him... and while I myself can't stop you from killing him, _she_ obviously can." 

_Damn it..._

"Fine." Shizuo says through gritted teeth. "But this _better_ be fucking worth it." 

"I find it highly unlikely that it won't." 

_Especially if my suspicions are correct..._

Releasing Shizuo from her psychic hold, the girl uses the back of her hand to wipe off the blood that has started to trickle down from her nose. "Here, let me get you a tissue." Shinra tells her, going to grab some toilet paper from the bathroom. 

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Shizuo waits until Shinra has returned before reluctantly following him and the girl into the living room. The flea is seated on the couch, pinching his nostrils between his fingers while quite obviously doing his best to avoid looking in his direction; when the girl rips the toilet paper Shinra'd given her in half and offers some to him, Shizuo realizes that she's not the only one whose nose has started to bleed. 

_What... the hell?_

Now that he's actually seeing him, Shizuo is forced to accept that Shinra hadn't been exaggerating in the slightest. Izaya looks like hell; on top of the bloody nose, he's even more pale than usual and the dark circles underneath his eyes suggest that he hasn't had a good night's sleep in at least a couple of days. He doesn't know why, but seeing him like this makes Shizuo feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

"Alrighty, then! Now that I have _somehow_ managed to do the impossible and get you both in the same room without one of you you immediately trying to kill the other; I would like to ask you both a favor. I'm even willing to play the 'friend' card, because I have put up with the two of your bullshit for years without ever asking for anything in return... so I think I've earned the right, don't you?" 

For once, neither Izaya _nor_ Shizuo put up any protest. 

"Excellent! Now, my favor is a simple favor... all I ask is that the two of you promise to cooperate with me -- with _me,_ not each other -- for at least five minutes. Do you think you can handle that?" 

Despite his better judgement, Shizuo nods. After a few seconds of hesitation, Izaya sighs and does the same. "Fine." 

"Okay. Now, where to start..." Shinra strokes his chin thoughtfully, glancing around the room as if looking for inspiration. When his gaze falls on the little girl's freckle-covered face, he realizes it would most likely be easiest if he were to center the conversation around her and the events that have lead up to this point. "Orihara-kun, why do you think Shizuo-kun hasn't attacked you yet?" 

"I assume because you gave him some sort of ultimatum." 

"Well, you're not _wrong,_ per say... but you're not exactly right, either. The reason Shizuo-kun isn't attacking you right now is because if he were to try, our little friend here would stop him." He gestures at the girl, which causes Izaya to raise an eyebrow. 

"This scrawny little thing?" 

"She's not a fucking _thing,_ flea." Shizuo says, trying not to let his temper get the best of him. 

"It's called a figure of speech, Shizu-chan. If you had a brain underneath that thick skull of yours, perhaps you'd know that!" 

Shinra clears his throat loudly, his expression a mix of both annoyance and amusement. "This 'scrawny thing' happens to have telekinetic capabilities powerful enough to fling grown men across entire rooms. Shizuo-kun found that out the hard way when I asked him to help me take a blood sample from her." 

_Telekinetic, huh?_

"How interesting!" 

"Isn't it?" Shinra responds, his eyes shining. "And that's just _one_ of the things she can do! Which is why it should come as no surprise that there are people who would go to any lengths to get their hands on her. Have you ever heard of Project Stargate?" 

"Assuming you mean the actual project, and not the Hollywood movie -- are you suggesting that it's involved? Because I was under the impression it was cancelled." 

"As was I, but recent events have lead me to believe otherwise. Shizuo-kun managed to scare some information out of one of it's local agents; according to him, the girl escaped from one of their home facilities by sneaking onto a plane heading for Narita." 

"Impressive." 

"Indeed! Apparently, his boss told him to 'capture her at all costs.' Unfortunately for him, she happened to have found herself a particularly strong bodyguard." 

_Ah. That explains what she's doing with Shizu-chan..._

"Did he say who his boss was?" 

"Some foreign man named Vincent, I believe." 

"Vincent?" Izaya repeats, trying to make sure he heard that correctly. "As in Vincent Pierce-Montgomery?" 

"Did the man give you a last name, Shizuo-kun?" 

"Yeah, actually... and I'm pretty sure that was it." As much as he hates the idea of cooperating with the annoying little pest, he hates the idea of letting down the kid even more. "Why, you know him?" 

"Yes, he happens to be a client of mine." 

_Though I'm starting to wish he wasn't..._

"A client? Really?" Shinra finds it to be too much of a coincidence. "What did he hire you for?" 

"He wanted me to find information on several local children and pre-teens." 

[What kind of information?] 

"Grades, I.Q test results, achievements or awards, etcetera, etcetera. Nothing particularly exciting." 

[Maybe he's looking for replacements?] 

Shinra nods. "It's possible, and it supports my current theory." 

[You have a theory?] 

"I do, but I'm not quite sure I want to share it yet. For now, though, I have a few more questions I'd like to ask Orihara-kun." 

"Ask away." 

"Did Vincent seem interested in you at all?" 

"A little, I suppose." 

"Did he ask you any personal questions? Maybe about how well you did in high school?" 

"He might have..." Izaya is starting to feel a little uncomfortable. "But I fail to see what that has to do with anything." 

"Of course you do. You've never been very good at self-reflection." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"I think, deep down, you know exactly what I mean. You just don't want to admit it." Shinra tells him. "I'm not surprised, though... you've always been a scaredy-cat when it comes to things out of your control." 

[Shinra... you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting are you?] 

"Wait, I'm lost, too... what the hell are you trying to say, Shinra?" Shizuo asks, confused. 

"It's simple. I don't think Vincent hired Orihara-kun just to help him _find_ a potential replacement... I also think he hired him because he _is_ a potential replacement." 

The silence that follows could almost be considered deafening.


	10. The Plot Thickens

"It's simple. I don't think Vincent hired Orihara-kun just to help him _find_ a potential replacement... I also think he hired him because he _is_ a potential replacement."

_Wait, what?_

Blinking, Izaya frowns as he tries to make sense of what his friend has just announced. It sounds as if Shinra is implying that he _himself_ has some sort of psychic power -- which, of course, is utter bullshit. Before he can voice his thoughts, however, Shizuo beats him to it. 

"Are you actually trying to fucking say that that goddamn _pest_ can do the same shit the kid can do? You must be off your goddamn rocker!" 

"I hate, hate, hate, hate, _hate_ that I'm about to say this, but... I agree with Shizu-chan. If I were psychic, I think I would know about it by now -- besides, I'm twenty-three. Not one of the names on the list Vincent gave me belonged to anyone over the age of sixteen." 

[That's a fair point...] 

"Correlation does not equal causation." Shinra responds, adjusting his glasses. "For example... what if it's not age that decides whether or not someone is a good candidate, but neuroplasticity?" 

"Nuu-rou-what-what?" Shizuo attempts to echo, furrowing his brow. 

"You forgot to use layman's terms, Shinra -- his lizard brain can't comprehend anything else." 

"I don't know who the hell leimin is, but I know an insult when I fucking hear one." 

_"AHEM."_ Shinra clears his throat again, even louder this time. Shooting each other a challenging glare, Shizuo and Izaya return their attention to their friend. "Neuroplasticity, Shizuo-kun, is the brain's ability to change itself. Many believe that this ability stops after a child reaches a certain age, but science suggests that the brain continues to change even into adulthood." 

"I'm not even going to pretend I understood any of that." Shizuo responds. 

"No surprise there." Izaya mutters under his breath. 

"What was that?" 

"Guys, _please._ Five minutes, that's all I ask." Shinra is starting to get exasperated. 

"Sorry..." Shizuo mumbles. 

"It's fine, I'm surprised you've managed to last this long." 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?" 

"In any case! I suspect that children generally make better test subjects than the average adult, as they are more open-minded and are therefore less likely to outright reject the possibility that they have some sort of latent psychic ability. However, as we all know, Orihara-kun is far from average." 

"I can't tell if that's supposed to be a compliment or an insult." Izaya remarks. 

"Neither, I'm simply stating a fact. Unlike most people in their twenties, you've had first-hand experience with the preternatural." 

"True, but Vincent doesn't know that." 

"Maybe not, but you've always given off an aura of mystery. It's actually one of the reasons I introduced myself in middle school... I could tell right away that there was something special about you, and I wouldn't be surprised if Vincent felt the same way. That's why I wanted to know if he'd asked you any personal questions; if they're similar to what he wanted you to find out about the children on the list, it might be for similar reasons, as well." 

[That makes sense. Do you think that's why the girl was willing to talk to him and not us?] 

"Wait, the girl fucking talked to him?" Shizuo asks, incredulous. 

"Yes, albeit telepathically. If Orihara-kun _is_ psychic, he might be the only one she's able to communicate with." 

Shizuo glances at the girl before turning to look at Izaya. He'd never say it out loud, but Shinra isn't the only one who's felt like there's something special about him; ever since high school, Shizuo's been drawn to the smaller man like a moth to a flame. "So if he's like the kid, that means this Vincent guy is gonna come after him, too, huh?" 

"Most likely, which reminds me -- Orihara-kun, you said earlier that you couldn't have called ahead because you don't have a phone on you. Is that because you suspect that you're being watched?" 

Izaya sighs. "Do you remember when you asked if I was hiding from someone?" 

"I do. I believe your response was 'that's one way to put it.' Are you willing to expound upon that, now?" 

Sighing again, Izaya nods reluctantly. "I don't know who, how, or why, but someone is -- let's say -- 'messing' with me." 

[Messing with you how?] 

"I'd prefer not to go into too much detail, but I will at least say that he knows far more about me than I do about him." 

"You must _hate_ that." Shinra remarks. "Do you think it could be the same person that somehow managed to make it through that incredibly obnoxious video game you made in high school?" 

"I wondered the same thing myself, but it isn't his _modus operandi."_

"Hmm..." Shinra strokes his chin. 

[Do you think it might be Vincent?] Celty asks. 

"It's highly unlikely." Izaya responds. "He doesn't seem like the type willing to get his hands dirty, and he hadn't even had his phone in his hand when I received an anonymous text message during our last meeting." 

"Have you received a lot of anonymous text messages?" Shinra inquires, curious. 

"Yes." 

"What did they say?" 

"I would prefer not to answer that question." 

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" Shizuo demands, his eyes narrowing. "Seems a little suspicious, if you ask me." 

"Then I guess it's good thing nobody _did_ ask you, isn't it~?" Izaya retorts, a sardonic smile on his lips. 

Shizuo opens his mouth to say something back, but he's distracted by the sound of his phone ringing. He glares at Izaya before taking it out of his pocket, flipping it open so he can answer it. "Hello?" 

_"Is this Shizuo Heiwajima?"_ The voice sounds warped, like the person on the other end is using something to disguise their voice. It gives him the creeps. 

"Who wants to know?" 

There's a chuckle. _"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."_

"I'd like to see you try, asshole." He really isn't in the mood for this. 

_"Too bad you wouldn't even see me at all. You'd be dead before you even knew I was there."_

"Oh, yeah? How about you come say that to my face, huh?" 

_"No thanks, I'll pass."_ The person chuckles again. _"I'm not calling to pick a fight."_

"Then what the hell _are_ you calling for?" 

_"I need you to give Izaya-kun a message for me."_

"What the fuck? Why the fuck would I do that?" 

_"Tell him I said 'you can run, but you can't hide.' Think you can do that for me?"_

"Why should I? Who the fuck is this?" Shizuo demands -- but instead of an answer, there's a _'click'_ , and the line goes dead. 

_What the hell?_

[Who was that?] 

"No fucking idea." Shizuo's frown deepens. "But they wanted me to give the flea a message." 

"A message? To Orihara-kun?" Shinra glances at Izaya, who looks noticeably paler than he had a few seconds ago. "What kind of message?" 

"They wanted me to tell him that he can run, but he can't hide. What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway? How the fuck did they get my number?" 

_"Fuck."_ Izaya breathes. He's starting to feel like he's trapped in some sort of waking nightmare, and he doesn't know whether he wants to cry or scream; so he does neither, instead bursting out into frenzied giggles that cause his entire body to shake violently. _"Fuck!"_ There's a loud _'POP!'_ when the ceiling light suddenly blows out, startling Izaya enough to immediately snap him out of his fear-induced mania. "That was -- " 

_"Not_ a coincidence, Orihara-kun." Shinra cuts him off, knowing him well enough to guess what his friend is about to say. "You can deny it all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you're not like most human beings. I believe we should move forward under the assumption that you have an unspecified amount of inactive psychic potential." 

[Doesn't that mean he's in just as much danger as the girl is?] Celty asks. [How are we going to keep him safe?] 

"Perhaps we could ask Simon to keep an eye on him?" Shinra suggests. 

"No, nuh-uh. We're not involving anyone else in this." Shizuo protests. 

"I suppose he could stay here, then... what do you think, Celty?" 

[Wouldn't that make you a target? What if Vincent sends someone to kill you, and I'm not here to stop it?] 

"Ahhh, my heart sings with love at the mere thought that my darling Celty -- _ow ow ow ow ow!"_ Annoyed and slightly embarrassed, the Dullahan had used one of her shadowy tendrils to pinch her lover's nose; when she lets go, Shinra sighs over-dramatically and rubs his nostrils. "Oh, how love hurts!" 

"She has a point, Shinra. Helping the flea would put you in danger." Shizuo says, crossing his arms. 

"So what do you suggest, Shizuo-kun? Are _you_ going to keep an eye on him?" Shinra inquires, his eyebrows raised. 

_'You're joking, right?'_ Shizuo wants to ask, the idea of having to spend a single second more with that evil little parasite not one he's particularly fond of... but when he looks down to find the little girl staring up at him with a hopeful, almost pleading expression on her face, what he actually _says_ takes even him by surprise. "Well, someone has to, right? Might as well be me." 

If Izaya wasn't in shock before, he definitely is now.


	11. 'S' is for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my dear followers! Before any of you get too invested in this story, I feel the need to address a comment I received from a guest. This isn't meant to be a call-out post or anything like that, simply a response and a sort of heads up for anyone who might feel similarly. The comment is as follows:
>
>>   
>  _"Please please PLEASE... no Shizaya. It literally took me forever to find a good story with no Shizaya or romance with an OC that also updates fairly. You can't betray me now! If there's any romance, I'd prefer it to be Shinra x Celty, anything else would probably ruin the story for me. So please, Author-san... don't start the Shizaya now. Or at all. I don't mind thickening the plot with Shizuo keeping Izaya, but please no further unnecessary boosts in their relationship. -- A reader whom has no way to get an actual account so has to review anonymously."_   
> 
> 
> Friend, I completely understand that it's frustrating to find a fanfiction you like, only to discover later on that it contains a ship that you're not a fan of. Unfortunately, I don't have good news for you; I'm a gay trans dude with Borderline Personality Disorder, and writing Shizaya fanfiction is how I cope with that, my transition, _and_ the dysphoria that comes along with both. I know this must be disappointing to hear, but I'm afraid that this story, like my others, _will_ contain Shizaya. There will also be one-sided OC/Izaya, thought it probably won't come up until much later.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry. ;w;

Izaya loves secrets.

He loves knowing them, telling them, selling them, even having them; he loves how much power they can give someone who knows how to use them -- _and_ how much they can take away from someone who doesn't. His entire way of existence relies on secrets; without them, he has nothing. Without them, he _is_ nothing. 

In his time as an information broker, Izaya has learned that there are basically three kinds of secrets. The first kind is your normal, average, everyday secret; it's the kind of secret everyone has at least one of (the kind it would be stranger for someone _not_ to have at least one of). The second kind of secret isn't as common as the first, but it's still fairly prevalent; it's the kind most often told after one-too-many glasses of wine, the kind that's discovery has a 50/50 chance of either ruining someone's reputation or not doing anything at all. The _third_ kind is the 'big deal' kind -- it's the kind you spell with a capital 'S', the kind that under _no_ circumstances should be allowed to get out; it's the kind that gets people killed, sometimes even worse. Most people don't have that kind of Secret... but as Shinra had stated earlier, Izaya isn't like most people. 

While he has his fair share of both the first and second kinds of secrets, Izaya only has one of the third -- but if the first kind was bronze, and the second kind was silver, then the third kind could easily be considered gold, and his is no exception. If a single person were to find out, it'd be over for him; the only reason no one has yet is because his paranoia has always been stronger than his desire for companionship, keeping him from ever putting himself in a situation where temptation might become a problem -- 

\-- until now. 

_I have made a terrible, terrible mistake._

Standing in the doorway of Shizuo Heiwajima's cramped studio apartment, he's starting to regret agreeing to let the other man take on the role of guard dog. If it hadn't been for the phone call Shizuo had gotten from his stalker, he most likely wouldn't have; his paranoia has come around to bite him in the ass, and now he has no choice but to suck it up and make the best of it. 

"The kid already has dibs on the futon, so you're gonna have to sleep on the floor. I don't have any more pillows or blankets though, so don't bother askin' for any -- bathroom's through the door, there's towels on the rack. If you piss me off, I'm kicking you out... but if you keep that annoying trap of yours shut for long enough, I might start tryin' to be a little nicer. Got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Good." He takes his American Spirits out of his pocket and pulls a cigarette out of the pack, letting it dangle from his lips while he feels around for his Zippo. 

"You're not actually going to smoke that in here, are you?" Izaya asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's my own goddamn house, isn't it?" 

"Technically it's an apartment, but that's not the point. She is." He points at the girl with his thumb. "Do you really want to expose a child to the dangers of second-hand smoke?" 

Unfortunately for Shizuo, he can't argue with that. "Goddamn it. I'll be on the porch." He sighs and opens his front door, stepping out into the crisp evening air. 

Izaya waits until the door shuts again to finally take a second to relax, sitting down on the futon and letting out a shaky breath. 

_A terrible, terrible, **terrible** mistake..._

_"He won't hurt you, you know."_

Blinking, Izaya turns his attention over to the girl. "Excuse me?" 

_"He won't hurt you. He can't."_

"What are you talking about?" 

She raises her eyebrows. 

"What? What's that look for?" Her stare is starting to make him feel uncomfortable. Sighing, the girl shakes her head and grabs one of the new pajama sets Celty had brought her from the little pile of stuff she'd been collecting. Shooting Izaya a curious look, she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her, the sound of running water following a few seconds after. 

_What the hell was that about?_

It's at that moment that the front door opens and Shizuo comes back in, about to say something when he realizes the girl isn't in sight. "Where's the kid?" 

"Where do you think she is, Shizu-chan?" 

"I don't fucking know, that's why I asked you. Where is she?" 

"If you would stop and _think_ for a second, Shizu-chan, you'd realize that there's literally only one place she _can_ be." He says, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Here, I'll give you a hint... if you listen carefully, you might be able to hear it." 

"Just fucking tell me, flea -- it's not that goddamn hard." 

"Shhhhh, hear that?" Izaya puts his hand up to his ear. 

"Damn it, flea..." 

"Shut up and listen, Shizu-chan. Do you hear it?" 

"Hear what, flea? The sound of water running? Yes, I fucking hear it, so wha... oh. She's taking a goddamn bath, isn't she?" 

"Bingo!" Izaya gives him a round of applause, smirking. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" 

"Remember that whole thing about pissing me off?" Shizuo snarls, already starting to get fed up with the informant's bullshit. "This is your first warning. You get three." 

"I'm impressed you can count that high." Izaya remarks. 

"That's two, flea. Sure you wanna try for a third?" 

"That depends." He says, swallowing thickly. He knows he should probably quit while he's behind, but he just can't seem to help himself. "Are you really just going to kick me out, or do you plan on teaching me a lesson first?" 

Shizuo doesn't respond right away, but there's a flash of something in his eyes that gives him the chills. "If you don't stop tryin' to push my buttons, you're gonna find out." He informs him, his voice low... almost suggestively so, Izaya realizes, goosebumps starting to spread across his skin. 

"What if I want to find out?" He asks, his heart pounding in his chest. 

"Flea... I _really_ don't think you want to play this game with me." Shizuo growls, taking a menacing step forward towards the smaller man. Looming over him, he leans forward until their foreheads are touching. "So why don't you be a good little flea and stop before you get yourself into trouble you can't get out of, huh?" 

He suddenly remembers one of the more... _effective_ messages he'd gotten from his mystery texter: _'do u think hes ever jerked off to the thought of raping u?'_ It had successfully managed to worm its way under his skin, but not for the reasons one might expect; while the thought of the beast snapping and taking him by force (not that he'd need to use much of it, considering) did scare him in no insignificant amount, it did an even _better_ job of getting him excited. 

_Jokes on you, stalker-san... you can't rape the willing._

You see, for Izaya, the 'S' in 'Secret' also stands for two other things; 'Sexuality', and 'Shizuo'. That's why, despite his common sense screaming at him to run away, he throws caution to the wind... 

...and kisses him.


	12. A New Ally

The moment Izaya realizes what he's just done, his eyes widen and he hastily backs away from the stunned blonde. It looks like Shizuo's about to say something when there's a knock on the front door, both of them turning to look towards it; at the same time, the door to the bathroom opens and the little girl comes back out, looking at the two of them curiously.

It takes a second knock for Shizuo to finally snap out of it, immediately moving to the door and opening it to reveal a short, chubby, mousy-looking woman who can't be much older than either of them. "U-um... hello..." She says nervously, pushing a pair of wide, circular glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "My name is Ito Sumiye... I-I'm the one that called you a little bit ago?" 

"Yeah, sorry, I got -- " He glances at Izaya, who is (conveniently) too busy inspecting his nails to notice. " -- distracted. Come on in." He steps aside to let the woman enter. 

"It's fine, um... thank you for inviting me over on s-such short notice. I didn't know what else to do..." 

"Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Shizu-chan?" Izaya hadn't been expecting any company, especially considering the fact that the beast wouldn't even let Simon get involved; though he can't say he's not grateful for the interruption, her arrival allowing him to put off dealing with Shizuo for a little while longer. 

"Oh, yeah. This is, uh..." She had just told him her name, but he's already managed to forget it. 

"S-S-S-Sumiye. Ito Sumiye." She says, fidgeting with the small, simple gold band she was wearing on her ring finger. "I, um... I work for, the, um... the project. I'm a n-neuroscientist, and um..." She looks like she's about to cry -- Izaya can't help but be sympathetic. 

"There's no need to rush, Ito-san." He says, smiling reassuringly. "Take as much time as you need." 

_The longer the better..._

Going over to her, the girl takes her hand and pulls her over to the futon, tugging on it until she sits down. She then goes into the kitchen and stands on her tip-toes, pulling a plastic cup out of Shizuo's cupboard and filling it with water before bringing it over to her. 

"O-oh, thank you..." Grateful, Sumiye accepts the water and takes a few small sips. 

Unlike Izaya or the girl, Shizuo is too impatient to wait. "She called while I was outside. Says she got my number from the lady I was supposed to meet earlier." 

"I wasn't aware you were supposed to meet anyone." 

"Yeah, well, now you are." 

"H-her name is Amari Kiyoko." Sumiye tells them. "She's our h-head of ops here in Tokyo... she was just about to leave to go s-see you when Montgomery called and said he needed to meet with her immediately... that was at least four hours ago, and I haven't heard from her since. I'm worried Montgomery f-found out she was planning on m-meeting you and..." She falls silent, fidgeting even more intensely with the ring on her finger; while it could just be a nervous habit, Izaya gets the sense that there's more to her relationship with her boss than what's generally considered acceptable in a professional setting -- _or_ Japan. 

_Unless you're just projecting._

Reminding himself that second-guessing everything he thinks, does, or feels is just going to make things harder on him, he decides to just come right out and ask. "Is she the one who gave you that ring?" 

Sumiye tenses up, which is all Izaya needs to confirm his suspicion; noticing her distress, the girl sits down next to her and rests her cheek against her shoulder. 

"Don't worry, Ito-san... I'm not the type to adhere to societal conventions, and Shizu-chan is so dense that he probably has no idea what I'm talking about." 

"Incorrect." Shizuo says, crossing his arms. "I know _exactly_ what you're talking about, and I'm pretty sure it's none of your fucking business." 

"If she doesn't want to answer me, she doesn't have to. I'm simply curious." 

"Maybe you should keep your goddamn curiosity to yourself, then?" 

"I-it's okay, really!" Sumiye pipes in, having no desire to be the cause of a fight. "You're Orihara Izaya, right? Kiyoko told me about you." 

"Did she, now?" 

"Montgomery told everyone that the reason he came to Japan was to aid in the retrieval of Subject Thirteen, but he hasn't had more than one conversation with Kiyoko since he got here, and she's the one he's supposed to talk strategy with. She started to get suspicious -- and when Kiyoko gets suspicious, she gets motivated, so she d-did some snooping and found out that he's absolutely convinced that you're ps-ps-ps-psychic." 

Izaya can't quite tell if she's stuttering this much because she has an actual speech impediment, or if it's just because she's that anxious; he decides that, ultimately, it doesn't matter... the syntax would be the same even if the words had flowed effortlessly from her lips. "I see... I don't suppose she happened to mention anything about him hiring someone to spy on me?" 

"N-no, sorry..." She replies, shaking her head. "She didn't really tell me very much... I think she wanted to make sure I had p-plausible deniability." 

_Damn._

"Have you tried calling her?" He inquires. 

She nods. "Texting, too... s-she hasn't replied to either." 

"Hmm..." Considering the timing, it isn't at all impossible that Vincent had lured Kiyoko into a trap; which would be unfortunate, because she's the only lead he has towards discovering his stalker's identity. 

Suddenly, Sumiye jolts, the faint sound of buzzing coming from her pocket; she fumbles for her phone, almost dropping it before she actually manages to look at the Caller ID. "It's h-her!" She exclaims, immediately answering it. "H-hello? Kiyoko?" 

_Unless it's not..._ Izaya can't help but think; thankfully, a sigh of relief from the frantic woman told him that he was wrong. 

"Oh, gosh, you had me so worried, I -- what, what is it?" There's a pause as she listens to the person on the other line, her brow furrowing. "At you-know-who's... why?" She asks, glancing at Shizuo. After another pause, she frowns and looks over at Izaya. "Does that mean he's given up on Subject Thirteen already? It hasn't even been a week!" Another pause. "Wait, which rumor? I've heard a few." 

The mention of a rumor catches Izaya's attention; he perks up, straining to try and hear the other side of the conversation. After a second or so, his head starts to ache... and that's when he hears her, the other woman's words clear as day. 

_"...never had a girlfriend. I'm telling you, Sumi, it's like he's obsessed; I'm really starting to think his interest is more than professional, and he does **not** come off as the type to accept 'no' for an answer."_

Izaya's almost entirely certain they're talking about Vincent. He's also entirely certain that he shouldn't be able to hear enough to pick up on that, but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind -- he could worry about it later. 

"That reminds me, Orihara-san wanted to know if he's hired anyone to watch him." 

___"He definitely has, I just haven't been able to figure out who. Sumi, I'm being summoned -- pick up something to eat on your way back, I'm starving and it'll give you an excuse if he decides to ask where you were. See you soon, love."_

"See you soon..." Sumiye echoes, hanging up and taking a deep, shaky breath before turning her attention back to the two men. "I have to go -- h-he wants to talk to me." 

"Who, Vincent?" Shizuo asks, needing clarification. 

"Yes. If I don't go back now, it'll be suspicious, s-so... uh... t-thanks again for having me." She bows awkwardly and shows herself out. 

Shizuo frowns and scratches his head. "What was that about?" 

_Me, unfortunately..._

Izaya yawns, feeling even more taxed than before. There's no way he's going to be able to get any sleep tonight; if the nightmares don't keep him awake, the situation certainly will... especially considering he's going to have to sleep in his outside clothes on a bare floor in the same room as the walking, talking bane of his existence. 

Feeling a tug on his sleeve, he looks down to see the girl staring up at him. "You know, we really need to think of something to call you." He says. "'Subject Thirteen' is too conspicuous, and 'the girl' just isn't going to cut it." 

She simply blinks. 

"If you don't give me any suggestions, I'm just going to make one up." 

Blink. 

"Alright, then from now on, your name is Magnolia. Do you have a problem with that?" 

She appears to think for a minute, then shakes her head. 

"Magnolia it is! And, since Shizu-chan most likely won't be able to pronounce it, he can call you 'Maki' for short." 

Shizuo, having opened his mouth to argue for that exact reason, shuts it without saying a word. 

"Now, Magnolia... is there something you need from me?" 

She shakes her head and points to the futon. 

"What? What about it?" 

She answers by tugging harder on his sleeve, until he sighs and allows her to pull him over to the mattress. She then grabs a pillow and two of the blankets off of it and takes them both into the kitchen, folding one in half and laying it on the ground before plopping down on it and wrapping herself in the other one like a cocoon. After a few minutes, he hears what sounds like soft snores coming from her direction; he's about eighty-percent certain they're fake, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "It seems Magnolia wants me to take the futon." He says, the gesture making him feel a little less stressed. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to respect her wishes?" 

"Well, it's my fucking futon, and if she ain't gonna use it, I am." 

"So that's a no, then." 

_Damn it..._

He'd been starting to get his hopes up. 

"Did I say it was a no?" 

"...Did you not?" 

"All I said was that if she wasn't gonna use it, I was. Whether you do too depends on you." He goes over to his pile of clean laundry and starts to dig through it. 

"You can't seriously be suggesting we _share?"_ Izaya asks, incredulous. 

"If you don't like it, the floor's still an option." He tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants onto the futon. "Here." 

"What's this for?" 

"I figured you'd probably wanna change into something more comfortable, and I don't think any of her stuff's gonna fit." He straightens up, unbuckling his pants -- the moment Izaya realizes he's not going to bother going into the bathroom to change, his face turns red and he hastily turns to enter it himself, his heart thumping in his chest as he shuts the door behind him. 

_What is wrong with me?_

Taking a moment to calm down, he turns on the faucet in the tub and strips out of his clothes. He's always found it easier to think when he's taking a bath -- and maybe (if he's lucky), by the time he comes back out, Shizuo will already be asleep.


	13. An Awkward Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Enjoy. :)

_He's standing on the edge of a giant, floating chess board, staring down at the nothingness that makes up the rest of the world. The square beneath his feet is such a pure white that it's almost blinding to look at, made to look even whiter by his dirty black boots. Everything he's wearing is black, from the heavy fur-trimmed robe to the rough leather gloves on his hands; everything, that is, except for the crown resting on top of his dark hair. It's made of a dull, tarnished silver, and it weighs him down even more than the robe does... he reaches up to remove it, but it refuses to budge. Out of nowhere, he hears a laugh echo from the other side of the board -- it's an unnatural laugh, one that somehow manages to sound both welcoming and threatening at the same time._

**_'Having second thoughts, are we?'_**

_Slowly, he turns to face the source of the voice. A man clad in a robe as blindingly white as his square is standing there smiling at him, the crown on **his** head shining with the light of a thousand golden suns. **'It's too late, you know... the match has already started.'** The man says, spreading his arms out like an actor on a stage. Only then does he notice they're not alone, scores upon scores of other white-clad figures stepping out of the shadows to join their master -- their **king** \-- at his side... there are so many of them that it feels like he's drowning in a sea of white, such a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness that he almost misses the single black shape lurking in the background._

_Compared to the rest of the White King's pieces, the shape is more beast-like than humanoid. He can sense a savageness within it, a primal sort of hunger that causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. The shape has no eyes, yet he somehow **knows** that it's watching him... that it's **been** watching him, studying him, **stalking** him like a wolf stalking a rabbit._

_No. Not a wolf._

_A **jackal.**_

_Something inside him is screaming at him to run, but his legs refuse to move... when he looks down, he finds golden shackles around his wrists and ankles that are connected to the checkered floor via gold chains that have sprouted up from a crack in-between his square and the black ones surrounding it. Panicked, he tries to break free -- but the more he struggles, the tighter the shackles become, keeping him from being able to escape. **'You can't evade me forever.'** The White King informs him matter-of-factly, sauntering towards him with that too-perfect smile still frozen on his too-handsome face. **'Sooner or later, I will capture you...' ** He reaches out and gently brushes his thumb over his bottom lip, the touch sending chills down his spine. **'And when that happens...'** He leans in close so he can whisper into the other man's ear. **'Checkmate.'** _

_Laughing the same strange, dual-natured laugh as before, the White King fades out of sight in a manner not unlike that of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Moving as one, the white-clad army turns and disappears into the void they had come from; only the shadow-jackal remains, its featureless face splitting into a wide, toothy, predatory grin. The chains keeping him bound had vanished when his opponent did, but he still feels trapped -- there's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and he knows it's only a matter of time before the beast gets bored and decides to make a move..._

Izaya gasps, his eyes snapping open as he shoots up out of the now room-temperature bathwater. Pushing his wet hair back out of his face, he takes a deep, shaky breath; he hadn't intended to fall asleep in Shizuo's tiny tub, but he can't say he's surprised that he did -- he's just lucky he hadn't ended up accidentally drowning himself. 

He goes to climb out of the tub, realizing too late that he'd forgotten to ask for a towel. The monster's almost certainly passed out by now, which means he's going to have to either get dressed while he's still wet or use one of the dirty ones currently draped over the rack. It's obvious just by looking which towel belongs to who: Magnolia's is a bright, eye-catching pink that can't be more than a day or two old, and Shizuo's is a pale-blue, bleach-spotted, raggedy old thing that has clearly seen better days. Before Izaya can think about what he's doing, he pulls the other man's towel off the rack and brings it up to his face, inhaling deeply; it smells almost exactly like how he'd suspected it would, the scent a dizzying mix of soap, shampoo, and Shizuo. 

_God, I'm disgusting..._

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Izaya dries himself off and pulls on the sweatpants and t-shirt Shizuo had given him. The shirt is a little loose, but otherwise fits fine... the sweatpants, however, he has to roll up at the waist just to keep from dragging on the floor (at least there's a drawstring to keep them from falling down every five seconds). He opens the door and peeks out -- Shizuo is sprawled out on the futon, and (as far as he can tell) Magnolia is still asleep on the kitchen floor. Turning off the bathroom light, he waits for his eyes to adjust before silently making his way over to the futon and peering down curiously at the passed-out monster. He almost wishes he had one of his phones on him so he could take a picture; the blonde has one of the most ridiculous sleeping faces he's ever seen, his mouth hanging open and a bit of drool dribbling down his chin as he snores so loudly that Izaya's impressed Magnolia's actually been able to sleep through it. 

Izaya knows he's on thin ice. The longer he's around Shizuo, the harder it's going to be for him to stay in control of his emotions -- not that he's doing a great job at it now, considering the fact that it's all he can do not to just lean in and press their lips together for a second time. He settles instead for carefully crawling onto the futon, spending a few seconds trying to move the monster's arm out of the way before giving up and laying on top of it. He regrets it immediately -- no sooner has his back hit the mattress than the snoring beast wraps his arms around him, holding him close much like a child might hold their favorite teddy bear. It would actually be kind of cute, was it not so terrifying; of all the ways Izaya's imagined himself dying, 'death by snuggles' was _certainly_ not one of them. 

_Well... I suppose there are **worse** ways I could go..._

Like dying from lack of sleep, for example -- a possibility that becomes more and more viable with each night he spends tossing and turning. If he doesn't get some decent rest soon, he's going to start hallucinating... but with Shizuo's obnoxious snores in his ear and his hot breath tickling his neck, Izaya's fairly certain he's going to need a miracle. 

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

Just when Izaya thinks that his situation is about as distressing as it can get, he feels something pressing against his lower back. 

_Please tell me that's not what I think it is..._

Swallowing hard, Izaya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before trying to free himself from the other man's freakishly strong grasp -- only to find it tightening around him, the sleeping man mumbling something incoherent before (to Izaya's mortification) starting to unconsciously grind against him. 

_Oh dear lord..._

Izaya's not sure what's worse: that he can't stop it, or that he doesn't want to. 

_Damn it, Shizu-chan!_

Despite how _not_ ideal the current circumstances are, Izaya can't stop the blood from rushing to his groin. The beast is basically dry-humping him, the warmth of his bare chest against his back doing nothing to help Izaya's growing... _problem..._ he can't even touch himself, his arms trapped in Shizuo's powerful embrace. 

_Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

He's about to scream at him to _'WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU MANGY MUTT!'_ when Shizuo suddenly grumbles something under his breath and rolls over onto his other side, Izaya wasting no time in jumping up off the futon and scrambling back over to the bathroom. There's no lid on the toilet, but that doesn't stop him from taking a seat on it; sucking almost desperately on his index finger until it's slick with his saliva, he reaches down the front of his borrowed sweatpants and feels around until his finger finds his virgin hole. 

_I can't believe I'm even **thinking** about doing this..._

It isn't the first time Izaya's attempted to relieve his frustration like this, but it definitely _is_ the first time he's done it in such close proximity to another person... let alone the source of the frustration himself. He wouldn't consider himself an exhibitionist, but he'd be lying if he said the thought of the other man waking up and realizing what he's doing isn't getting him even more excited; closing his eyes, Izaya teases the rim of his entrance before biting his lower lip and pushing the wet finger inside of himself.


	14. Swept Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna leave this here... *coughs*

It's still dark when Shizuo wakes up to a full bladder and a hard-on the size of Tokyo, rubbing his eyes groggily as he pushes himself into a sitting position and takes a bleary look around the room. The only light seems to be coming from the crack underneath his bathroom door, just barely bright enough for him to notice that the space next to him on the futon is empty; checking the time on his phone, he furrows his brow when he discovers that it's been long enough that there's no reason Izaya shouldn't have come back out by now. Remembering how exhausted he'd looked, it suddenly occurs to him that he might very well have fallen asleep in the bath -- sighing, he yawns and gets up to go make sure the flea hasn't accidentally drowned himself (not that he'd shed any tears if he did).

He's just about to knock when a noise from the other side stops him, causing him to frown and press his ear to the door so he can get a better listen. At first, he's not sure what it is he's actually hearing -- it almost sounds like the other man is in pain, a shaky groan following a hitch of breath -- but then he hears a lewd sort of squelching sound, followed by another, slightly more desperate groan... and that's when it hits him that the flea isn't groaning because of pain, he's groaning because of _pleasure._ The goddamn little shit is _masturbating!_

_Right, 'cause this is just what I fucking need right now!_

Shizuo is usually an incredibly heavy sleeper (Shinra once told him his snoring is the only thing that keeps him from being mistaken for dead and accidentally getting buried alive), but every now and then something happens that affects him enough for it to resurface in a dream the next time he passes out. While the theme of these dreams differ depending on the circumstances, they almost always share one particular detail: _Izaya._ Ever since he first laid eyes on the other man, he's found it nearly impossible to go a single day without thinking about him; he'd love to blame it entirely on hate (and hate certainly _is_ a part of it), but he also knows that it's not that simple. There are other emotions at play here, too -- emotions that do absolutely nothing to help stifle the flames currently burning in his loins, his lips still tingling from Izaya's unexpected (but not exactly unwanted) kiss. 

_Fuck this._

Not even bothering to knock first, Shizuo (as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Magnolia) enters the tiny bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He turns around, his eyes falling on a very, very, _very_ flushed Izaya; his expression reminds Shizuo of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing uselessly as he tries to think of a reason to explain to the other man why he's currently sitting on his toilet with his hand down his pants. Before he can, however, he suddenly finds a pair of chapped lips pressed fiercely against his own. 

_"Mmph!?"_

Izaya tastes even better than Shizuo remembers, his pink lips as soft as silk; groaning into his mouth, he cups the other's face in his trembling hands as he slips his tongue inside to taste even more of him. 

"N...nnn..." Izaya's not quite sure if this is actually happening or if it's just a very, very, _very_ convincing dream (he's been having a lot of those lately), but the part of him that would normally care about that sort of distinction is too busy being distracted by the monster's warm, wet tongue exploring his mouth. Reaching up to tangle his fingers in the other's bleached hair, he tugs on Shizuo's bottom lip with his teeth hard enough to elicit a low, animalistic growl... he's glad he's already sitting down, because the sound of it alone is enough to make him weak in the knees. 

_Fuck..._

He wraps his legs around Shizuo's waist and kisses him harder, grinding up so that their clothed erections are forced to rub against each other. Shizuo lets out another, deeper growl and shoves him back down, only letting go of him long enough to yank off Izaya's sweatpants -- _his_ sweatpants -- before shoving the pair he himself is wearing down his narrow hips. "Show me how you touch yourself." He orders breathlessly, holding the other man by the chin so he can't look away. "Go on... _do it."_

Whether it's the lust-filled expression on his face, his insane strength, or the intimidating tone in his voice, Izaya doesn't know... all he knows is that he has no desire to refuse the monster's demand, his hand shaking as it returns to its resting place between his thighs. "I know it probably defeats the purpose, but... I don't suppose you'd be willing to close your eyes for a few seconds?" 

"Not a chance." 

"Thought not..." Izaya can't hide the glistening precum that oozes from the slit of his cock, the nigh-overwhelming shame he's feeling only adding to his arousal. Squeezing his eyes shut, he holds his breath as he ever-so-slowly slides his finger back into his eager hole. He can _sense_ how worked up Shizuo is... if he had a tail, chances are he'd be wagging it. Pushing his reservations to the back of his mind, he spreads his legs open wide so that the other man can see _exactly_ what it is he's doing. 

"Oh, _fuck_..." Shizuo breathes, the sight of the annoying, arrogant little flea _finger-fucking_ himself -- on his _command_ , no less! -- making it incredibly hard for him to fight the intense urge to pin him down and have his way with him once and for all. Unfortunately for him, Izaya has always been particularly good at getting him to lose control, and the current situation is no exception; the moment Shizuo feels Izaya's free hand take hold of his aching erection, he throws caution to the wind and lets his instincts take over. 

Izaya lets out a surprised squeak when he suddenly finds himself with his wrists pinned above his head, barely having enough time to register what's going on before he feels something longer, harder, and much, much, _much_ thicker than any of his fingers start to press into him. When he realizes what it is, his eyes widen and he inhales sharply; he's always figured that the beast would be the impatient type, but that doesn't mean he was prepared -- physically _or_ emotionally -- for things to move _this_ fast. "W...wai..." He begins to say... but the protest dies on his lips, replaced with a strangled moan as Shizuo's cock sinks deeper and deeper inside of him. 

_"Fuck,_ you feel good..." Shizuo murmurs against his lips, drunk on the feeling of Izaya's tight heat enveloping him. "So good..." He repeats, nuzzling the other man's neck before latching onto it with his mouth and sucking at it greedily. Izaya can only groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his head lolls back and the overwhelming, painful-yet-pleasurable sensation of being filled pushes him over the edge, his ass clenching down on the other man's throbbing erection. Almost immediately he feels a warmth spreading throughout his bowels; it takes him a second to realize that it's the other man's seed, his cheeks burning in a mixture of mortification and arousal. 

_The monster's cum is inside me. The monster's **cum.** Is inside me. Inside me!_

Despite having just came, Shizuo doesn't seem to be in any hurry to pull out... and Izaya wouldn't be able to complain even if he wanted to, so overstimulated that just a slight shift of the hips has him convulsing all over again. "A...ahh!" 

"You... you okay?" Shizuo asks, his gaze fixated on Izaya's infuriatingly attractive face; he looks even more exhausted than before, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he pants desperately for air. The sight of it is so positively satisfying that he can already feel himself beginning to grow stiff again -- and so can Izaya, a tiny whimper escaping his lips as his tender hole is stretched by the reinflating cock. He forces his weary eyes open, looking up at the seemingly-insatiable beast with an almost pleading look on his face. There's no way he'll be able to handle another round... not when he hasn't even recovered from the first one yet! 

Unfortunately for him, Shizuo has either: A) not seen said look; B) misread it; or C) chosen to ignore it altogether; gyrating his hips almost lazily, he leans in for a slower, more sensual kiss, letting his tongue run over the other's swollen lips as he begins working himself towards a second orgasm. Izaya whines impatiently, the other's leisurely pace just enough to build him up but not enough to provide any actual relief... 

_More... need more..._

Grinding down on Shizuo's pulsing cock, Izaya shudders when it rubs against a spot that sends jolts of electricity up his spine. The only thing stopping him from crying out is the other man's lips, moving against his own in a way that makes him feverish. It's still not enough... but he can't even communicate that, because his tongue is being sucked on and he can barely _think_ , let alone speak. He wants relief. No... he _needs_ it, because he feels like he's going to explode and if he doesn't come soon he's going to end up passing out due to lack of blood flow. 

_Need, need, need, need--_

_***POP!***_

The sound startles Izaya enough for him to instinctively tense up, his thighs squeezing Shizuo's hips and his eyes rolling back as his climax hits him suddenly and violently. There's a buzzing noise, and then another loud pop -- and then another, and another, Izaya squeezing down tighter and tighter as the bathroom lights go out one by one, until all that's left for Shizuo to focus on is Izaya's gasps and the feeling of his wonderful, wonderful ass milking his cock. _"Fuck..."_ He breathes, rutting against him frantically as waves of pleasure once more begin to wash over him. 

As unromantic as being fucked in a tiny bathroom is, Izaya can't say he's not a little grateful for it -- especially when Shizuo finally removes himself, semen immediately gushing out of his freshly-used hole and down into the bowl below. A second later it's joined with another, more steady stream of liquid, which confuses Izaya for a moment until he realizes that Shizuo has started urinating. "Really? You couldn't wait a little bit longer?" He asks, irritated (and for some reason a little turned on) by the other man's complete and utter lack of regard for his comfort or personal space. 

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

"I've been waiting since I woke up -- ain't my fault I needed to take a piss, you're lucky I was able to hold it until I was out of you." He finishes relieving himself before wiping himself off and pulling up his pants. 

"Shizu-chan is such a gentleman." Izaya comments, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Taking advantage of the _absolutely coincidental_ light outage, he grabs a handful of toilet paper so he can start cleaning himself out without having to worry about the monster deciding he wants to watch. 

_I could really use a bidet right now..._

"Hey, I'm gonna go have a cigarette." Shizuo informs him, pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. "If you need anything, I guess you can, um..." He clears his throat awkwardly. "Come get me or something." 

"What I need is to fall asleep and not wake up until this nightmare is over." Izaya says bitterly. 

Unsure how to respond to that, Shizuo heads back into the living room and grabs his phone so he can use it as a light source while he searches for his smokes. When he finds them, he makes sure he has his lighter before opening his front door and stepping onto the porch. It's a decently nice night-slash-morning out; the air is pleasantly warm, with the exception of a slight breeze that feels good against his damp skin. 

_Please tell me I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life..._

Sighing heavily, he pulls a cigarette out of the pack and brings it to his lips so he can light it and take a deep inhale. The nicotine does exactly what he'd hoped it would do, warmth spreading through his veins as his body immediately relaxes. 

_Damn, I needed that..._

Suddenly, the sound of a car door slamming shut echoes throughout the night, immediately catching his attention. Most of the other tenants that live in this complex are elderly people or people with kids, so it's weird to hear even a little noise this long after curfew... and his suspicion only doubles when he hears the sound of squealing tires, followed by the sight of a white, windowless van with no license plate peeling out of the silent parking lot. 

_What the hell?_

He may not be on the flea's level when it comes to critical thinking skills, but he doesn't need to be to guess that that van most likely wasn't here by coincidence. Remembering the phone call from earlier, a chill spreads over his body when he realizes that the person in the driver's seat could very well be the same, voice-disguised creep that had called him earlier. 

_Whoever it is, they're lucky I'm too exhausted to try and chase them down... otherwise, I'd make 'em wish they'd never been born._

Pushing aside his worry for the moment, Shizuo finishes up his cigarette and goes back inside.


	15. A Blessing in Disguise

By the time Vincent Pierce-Montgomery arrives back at his hotel suite, he wants nothing more than a glass of Burgundy, a nice hot bubble bath, and a good night's sleep. It's been a very long, very _stressful_ day; not a bit of progress has been made on the retrieval of Subject Thirteen, and he hasn't been able to get ahold of Izaya at all, either -- his phone keeps going straight to voicemail, and despite leaving several messages, Vincent has yet to hear back from him (and Vincent really, really, really doesn't like being kept waiting).

When he's finished with his bath and is finally ready for bed, he ties the fluffy white bathrobe the hotel graciously provided him with around his waist and opens the door, about to step through it when he realizes he has an unexpected (and entirely unwelcome) visitor. "I do hope you have a good reason for breaking into my hotel suite, Jackal." He tells him, casually pouring himself a glass of wine like he _doesn't_ want to smash the entire bottle over his head. 

_Keep calm, Vincent. Don't let your emotions control you._

"Oh, _do_ I." His "visitor" responds, the grin on his face almost shark-like. 

Vincent raises an eyebrow, something in the other's tone piquing his curiosity. "Is that so?" He asks, taking a drink from his glass while giving him an appraising look. Jackal is dressed almost exactly the same as he had been last time they'd met, wearing the same scuffed black combat boots, dirty camouflage pants, and black open fur vest; the only difference is a sizeable gold chain hanging around his neck and several large, gaudy gold rings on his fingers, none of which do anything to help detract from his unsavory, almost sleazy appearance. 

"Remember when you asked me to figure out why Orihara lied to you about knowing Heiwajima?" 

Vincent takes another drink of his Burgundy before setting his glass down and turning his attention entirely to the other man, suddenly much more interested in what he has to say. "I take it you've discovered something?" 

"Oh, I've discovered something, alright." The delighted look in Jackal's eyes is almost sadistic in nature. "A couple things, in fact. First off..." He pulls a simple black flash-drive out of a hidden pocket in his vest and holds it out for Vincent to take. "You've got a laptop, right, Mister Bigshot? Plug that in and give it a listen." 

"And I'm supposed to just trust implicitly that this isn't some sort of computer virus?" Vincent asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Look, blondie; if I wanted to give you a virus, you'd already have one." 

"...Fine. But if this is a trick, be prepared to grovel." Vincent warns coldly, taking the flash-drive from the other man and (against his better judgment) sliding it into his expensive laptop's USB port. After a few seconds, the device begins to auto-install; he waits for it to finish before opening it up, finding only a single, solitary audio file contained within. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this is first?" 

"Nope!" 

_Of course not._

"You certainly enjoy making things difficult for me, don't you?" 

"You didn't hire me because I'm agreeable, you hired me because I'm good at what I do. Now go on, open it." 

_Well, I certainly can't argue with that..._

Yawning, he opens the file and adjusts the volume so that it's neither too loud nor too quiet. At first, he can't tell what it is -- the audio is incredibly muffled, almost as if it had been recorded from behind a wall -- but after a few seconds, it clears up enough for Vincent to realize that what he's hearing is the sound of two men engaging in what he assumes to be sexual intercourse. _"Jackal..."_ He starts, his displeasure made clear from his low, threatening tone... but before he can continue, he's distracted by a shaky, breathy voice he immediately recognizes as belonging to none other than Izaya Orihara himself. 

_'Really? You couldn't wait a little bit longer?'_

_'I've been waiting since I woke up -- ain't my fault I needed to take a piss, you're lucky I was able to hold it until I was out of you.'_ A deeper, more guttural voice responds. 

_'Shizu-chan is such a gentleman.'_

"Ah." Vincent sighs. 

_I suppose that answers that question..._

Deciding he's heard enough, Vincent exits out of his media player and carefully closes his laptop. "How long has this been going on?" 

Jackal is not the kind of person that's easy to intimidate, but the eerie flatness in his employer's words and the chilly look in his ice-blue eyes snuffs out any desire he might have to be facetious. Clearing his throat, he straightens up and puts on his serious face. "Not very, as far as I can tell. I think it might actually have been their first time." 

"Where did this take place?" 

"Heiwajima's apartment." 

"Why were you at Heiwajima's apartment?" 

"Cause that's where Orihara was." 

"And why was _Orihara_ at Heiwajima's apartment?" Vincent asks, once more narrowing his eyes. Jackal seems nervous, almost guilty; if his demeanor is anything to go off of, then there's a good chance that he himself might be behind this particular... _complication._ If that's the case, he'll need to be taught a lesson -- and Vincent would be _more_ than happy to be the one to do it. 

"I don't know, honest. I didn't catch up with him until he was already there." Jackal informs him, all traces of cockiness gone in favor of his instincts. 

"What do you mean, you didn't catch up with him? What were you doing that allowed him to get a head start?" 

"Recon. You wanted me to figure out everything I could about him, right?" He asks, kicking a plain, medium-sized duffel bag over to the other man. "Well, with him out of the way, I was able to snoop around his apartment... and I found something _pretty_ interesting." He says, pointing at the bag. "Bet you'll never guess what it is." 

"Money?" 

"Nope." 

"Drugs?" 

"Nope." 

"Porn?" 

"Lol, no." 

"Well, then I give up. What is it?" 

"Open it and see for yourself." Jackal tells him, his toothy grin returning. 

Vincent raises an eyebrow before unzipping the duffel bag, opening it to find himself face-to-face with... a _face._ "What the hell?" He breathes, his eyes widening. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it's not just a face he's seeing; it's an entire _head_ , encased in a sealed glass jar filled with some sort of clear chemical solution. The head appears to have once belonged to a woman, its soft, feminine features so beautiful it's almost unnatural. 

"I know, right? Freaky, isn't it? Almost looks real. At first I thought it was some sort of hyper-realistic sex toy, but then I got to Heiwajima's and... well. She doesn't really seem like Orihara's type." 

"It's real." Vincent stares down at the floating head, filled with a kind of wonder he hasn't felt since he was a little boy. 

"Oh yeah? How are you so sure?" 

"I just am." 

Jackal snorts. "Yeah, well, if it is real then Orihara's either a freak or a murderer. Either way, he's been naughty." He says, flopping down on the suite's expensive black leather couch. 

"You're wrong, actually... there's a third option." 

"Oh yeah? What's that?" 

Vincent takes the jar out of the bag and holds it up to the light for closer inspection, trying to see if he can determine the head's ancestry by its appearance alone. If he had to wager a guess, he'd say its owner was most likely of European descent... though where _exactly_ in Europe, he isn't sure. "It's alive." 

"Seriously? It's a _severed head."_ Jackal scoffs. "How the hell can it be alive?" 

"Perhaps alive isn't exactly the right word... but it's not dead, not in the sense you're thinking of." 

"Are you feelin' okay, boss? Cause you're not making a goddamn lick of sense." 

"Let's just say that nothing is impossible and leave it at that." Vincent returns the head to the duffel bag and zips it shut, locking it away in the safe that came with the room before turning towards the other man. "Before you go, however, there's something I'm curious about." 

"What is it?" 

"The audio from earlier... it sounded like it started towards the end. Did you not record anything before that?" 

"Actually, I did... but then the strangest shit happened. I'm listening to Heiwajima and Orihara goin' at it, and then all of a sudden, _boom!_ Power outage. Most of my equipment shorted out, I lost everything I'd recorded already. Ended up having to switch to a backup, hence the shit quality." 

"...Is that so?" 

"Yeah. Look, I know it sounds like some half-assed excuse, but I swear--" 

"I believe you, Jackal." Vincent says, his attitude suddenly much, much more pleasant. 

"You do?" 

"I do." Taking his wallet out of his pants, Vincent counts out ¥100,000 and hands it to the other man. 

"What's this for?" 

"Consider it a thank you gift. You've been more helpful than you know." 

"Well, I ain't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth." He pockets the money, a little weirded out by the American's sudden mood swing. 

"I'll contact you with the details of your next task after my meeting tomorrow. Until then... have a good night, Jackal." 

"Yeah... will do." Shooting him a curious look, Jackal heads out into the corridor and shuts the door behind him. Alone at last, Vincent finishes his glass of wine and climbs into bed so he can finally fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	16. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short, it was going to be part of a longer chapter but I decided it worked better if I ended it here.

The sun has barely started to peek up over the horizon when Shizuo wakes to the sound of his phone ringing, immediately fumbling around for it so he can answer it before the noise wakes up either of his two guests. “‘Ello?” He greets with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

_“Am I correct in assuming that this is Shizuo Heiwajima I’m speaking with?”_ A voice asks, its accent suggesting that whoever it belongs to isn’t a native speaker; it’s a pleasant voice, crisp and clear and calm… yet for some reason, the very sound of it sends chills down Shizuo’s spine. 

“Who the hell wants to know?” He responds, trying not to raise his voice. The flea is passed out on the futon next to him, all but dead to the world; considering how exhausted he’d looked _before_ Shizuo had ended up giving into his urges, disturbing his rest is the last thing he wants to do (besides, as long as he’s asleep, he won’t be able to piss him off). 

_”My name is Vincent Pierce-Montgomery. I believe you’ve heard of me?”_

The moment the name leaves the man’s lips, Shizuo’s hackles raise and he finds himself having to fight very, very hard to keep from yelling or crushing his phone. “Yeah, I heard of you.” He growls lowly, grabbing his pack of American Spirits from off the coffee table before opening his front door and stepping out onto his porch. “You’re the asshole that tried to have me killed. What the hell do you want?” 

_”Ah yes. An unfortunate bit of business, that; I was forced to, ah… **let go** of that particular employee. I do so dislike failure.”_

“You killed him, you mean.” Shizuo states flatly, his hand shaking as he attempts to light his cigarette. He knows it’s not his fault -- the guy tried to fucking _murder_ him, after all -- but he still can’t help but feel guilty, the thought that he might have sent a man to his death making him more than a little uncomfortable. 

_”Did I say that? How quick you are to jump to conclusions!”_

“What. Do. You. _Want?”_ Shizuo asks again, clenching his free hand into a fist as he takes a deep drag off his cig. 

_”To extend an invitation.”_

“What kind of invitation?” 

_”You have something I want. Since I can not trust my employees to retrieve it for me, I realize I must take matters into my own hands. That is why I would like us to meet.”_

“You’re kidding, right?” Shizuo scoffs, incredulous. “Why the hell would I agree to that?” 

_”Why would you not? From what I hear, you are quite capable of protecting yourself… unless the rumors of your strength are not to be believed?”_

“Oh, they’re to be believed, all right.” Shizuo says threateningly, taking an even deeper drag off of his cigarette. Something about this man bothers him more than Izaya ever has -- and that’s saying something, considering the little shit had managed to get under his skin the moment he first laid eyes on him. 

_”You’ll have to understand why I’m hesitant to take you at your word… the idea that any human being can be as powerful as you are said to be seems a little too… far-fetched.”_

_I’ll show you what’s far-fetched…_

“So lemme guess, you want to see it with your own two eyes. That right?” 

_”Precisely.”_

Shizuo almost wants to laugh. This smarmy bigshot wants proof? He’ll _gladly_ give it to him. “Alright, asshole. It’s your funeral. Where are you?” 

_”Have you ever heard of the Imperial Hotel?”_

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it…” Shizuo responds, trying not to sound _too_ envious. The Imperial Hotel is the most famous hotel in Japan, and is easily one of the most expensive; there’s no way even the cheapest of rooms there costs less than 30,000 yen a night, and the amount it’d cost to rent one of the suites is more than he makes in an entire _year._ If he didn’t hate this guy already, he certainly does now. 

_Just how fucking loaded is he?_

_”Excellent! I’ll see you in… how long does it take to get here?”_

“Thirty minutes.” Shizuo replies through gritted teeth. 

_”Thirty minutes! Wonderful! I look forward to finally meeting you, Shizuo Heiwajima.”_ Vincent hangs up, leaving Shizuo to finish his cigarette before flicking the butt over the railing and going back inside. Izaya doesn’t seem to have moved an inch, but Maki is now awake and staring at him curiously from her little kitchen-nest; having no way to communicate to her what’s going on without having to wake up Izaya, he settles for an awkward wave before going over to his laundry and digging through it for a clean vest, dress shirt, and pair of slacks. He goes into the bathroom to change, deciding once he’s in there that it might be a good idea to shower first -- when he comes back out, he finds Maki waiting by the door with a confused look on her face. 

“Mornin’, kiddo.” He says, crouching down so they’re at eye level. “I sure do wish you spoke Japanese…” He ruffles her hair affectionately, giving her a reassuring smile before straightening back up. Making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, he turns to open the front door -- but before he can actually step through it, he feels one of her tiny hands grip his sleeve. Her expression is one of worry, and seeing it almost makes him want to call Vincent back to tell him he’s changed his mind… but the thought of being able to put an end to this whole thing sooner rather than later is too appealing to pass up, so he gently removes her hand from his shirt and pats her on the head. “I’ll be back, okay?” He tells her, hoping that she’s able to at least somewhat understand his intention. “Promise.” 

He leaves at that, too busy imagining what it will be like to smash Vincent’s face in to pay any attention to the voice in the back of his head saying that maybe, just maybe, he’s making a very, very, _very_ big mistake. Taking another cigarette out of the pack, he lights it as he makes his way towards the train station.


	17. Uneven Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy?

Despite having an entire half hour to think about what it is he’s doing, by the time Shizuo arrives at the Imperial Hotel, he is no less angry than he’d been when he’d left his apartment. He used to believe that Izaya was the living embodiment of everything that’s wrong with the world, but recent events have made him rethink that particular stance; as annoying as the little bastard is, Shizuo can’t actually think of a single time he’s legitimately murdered anyone -- but Vincent seems to have no problem with ending someone else’s life, willing to kill his own employee for not being able to take down someone whose very name is enough to strike fear in the hearts of people of all ages and walks of life. His rage already threatening to boil over, he approaches the front door of the hotel with a threatening aura powerful enough to make the security guard swallow nervously and put his hand on his sidearm.

“C-can I help you, sir?” 

“Yeah, you can get out of my way.” He says flatly, having no patience for this kind of bullshit right now. 

“Are you a guest here?” The anxious guard asks, trying not to appear as intimidated as he actually is. 

“Nope, but I’m supposed to be meeting someone who is.” 

“What’s your name? I’ll check the list.” 

“Heiwajima Shizuo.” 

The guard seems to stiffen, his face growing as pale as if he’d seen a ghost; his eyes taking in the sight of the familiar black slacks, vest, and bowtie most often worn by bartenders, he decides it’s in his best interest to make the other man wait any longer. “E-enjoy your stay.” He stutters awkwardly. 

“Thanks, but I don’t plan on being here long.” Shizuo responds, pushing open the doors and stepping inside the hotel’s spacious, finely decorated lobby. It looks like something out of a movie, with shiny marble floors and a chandelier the size of his bathroom; realizing he has no idea where to go from here, he’s about to start heading towards guest reception when his phone rings. “Hello?” He greets shortly, fairly certain he already knows who it is -- sure enough, when the voice on the other end answers, he’s able to recognize it as Vincent’s. 

_”Mister Heiwajima! I don’t suppose you’ve arrived yet?”_

“Yeah, I just got here.” He replies, more than a little creeped out by Vincent’s timing. “Now tell me where the hell you are?” 

_”My, my, how forward you are -- but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just as eager to get this little meeting underway. I’m currently staying in a suite located on the seventeenth floor -- go the elevator, I’ll allow you access.”_

Shizuo’s eye twitches. 

_So not only is this rich fuck staying at the Imperial fucking Hotel, he’s **also** staying in one of the goddamn **suites?** God, I fucking hate this asshole._

All but storming over to the elevator, Shizuo waits impatiently for the doors to open before pushing aside one of the other hotel guests and smashing his finger against the button for the seventeenth floor (which he’s annoyed to find is also the top floor). Almost immediately, he hears a buzzing sound; the doors closing in front of him, the elevator slowly makes its ascension. 

_”When you reach my floor, go to the last door on the left. I’ll be waiting for you.”_ There’s a ‘click’, and the line goes dead; fighting the urge to crush his phone between his fingers, he shoves it back into his pocket. 

_I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…_

The only reason he doesn’t end up destroying anything while waiting for the elevator to reach the top is that it doesn’t stop once until it gets there, the doors opening to reveal a long, elegantly decorated corridor. He doesn’t know why, but something about it unnerves him… taking a deep breath to steel himself, he heads down the corridor until he reaches the last door on the left. For a second, he contemplates kicking the door in -- but it would probably cost more to replace it than it does for him to pay his rent each month, so he instead decides to bang his fists against the polished wood. “Oi, I’m here! Open the fuck up!” 

The door creaks open eerily, causing goosebumps to spread over his skin. It doesn’t help that when he pushes it open the rest of the way, he’s greeted by an entirely empty room; telling himself that the door must not have been completely shut, he steps inside and takes a look around. The suite is just as luxurious as the corridor and the lobby, all polished wood and soft carpets -- clenching his fists, he tries not to let his envy convince him to give into his fury _before_ he’s able to get his hands on the smarmy bastard who invited him here. “Oi! You hear me? I said I’m here! Now come out and face me, you goddamn coward!” 

“Are you always this impatient, Mister Heiwajima?” 

His head swiveling towards the source of the voice, his eyes fall on a tall, pale-blonde American man clad in a dark blue business suit, black dress shirt, and dark blue tie. He has a smile on his face that somehow manages to seem both fake and genuine at the same time, something about the look in his ice-blue eyes sending shivers up Shizuo’s spine; his body moving on autopilot, he lets out an angry roar as he picks up the expensive leather sofa and hurls it in Vincent’s direction… only for it to stop in mid-air, hovering there for a second before gently floating back down to the floor. 

_What the **hell?**_

“I would appreciate it if you would refrain from abusing the furniture, Mister Heiwajima. While it would be no trouble at all to compensate this lovely establishment for any damages you might cause, I would prefer not to have to answer the questions that would be sure to follow.” Vincent informs him casually, that unsettling smile of his still plastered on his face. His fear drowning out his common sense (not that he generally listens to it anyway), Shizuo lets out an angrier, even louder roar and lunges at the other man; unfortunately, he isn’t able to get even a slight bit close to him before he suddenly finds himself frozen in place. “Temper, temper.” Vincent taunts, obviously amused by the situation. “Did no one ever teach you manners?” 

“What the hell did you do?!” No matter how hard he tries to will his body to move, he can’t get a single part of it to budge; it’s just like when the kid had stopped him from attacking Izaya, only Vincent doesn’t seem to be using even half the amount of energy she had. 

“So this is the so-called “monster” I’ve heard so much about?” The American remarks callously. “I have to say, I’m a little underwhelmed. I was expecting more of a challenge.” 

“Let me go and I’ll fucking _show_ you a challenge!” Shizuo orders. He’s never been in a situation where he couldn’t rely on his strength to get him out of it, the realization that he’s at a disadvantage doing nothing to help the panic bubbling up in his throat. 

_What the fuck do I do, what the fuck do I do, what the **fuck** do I **do?!**_

“Let you go?” Vincent repeats. “You want me to _let you go?_ Why in the world would I do that?” 

“You’ll do it because if you don’t, I’ll rip your fucking arm off and shove it up your goddamn ass!” 

“And how exactly do you expect to do that when you can’t even move?” Vincent inquires, raising an eyebrow. “I see your intelligence is inversely proportional to your strength.” 

“You know what, I take it back. I ain’t gonna rip your arm off and shove it up your ass, I’m gonna rip it off and _beat_ you to fucking _death_ with it!” Shizuo tells him, tears of frustration starting to well up in his eyes. He’s never felt this helpless before, having no idea what he should do -- or even _could_ do -- to get himself out of this. 

“By all means, continue to bark… it won’t do you any good.” Vincent says, going over to suite’s kitchenette so he can pour himself a glass of wine. 

“I fucking mean it, I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking kill you, and then I’ll kill you a second time to make damn fucking sure you fucking _stay_ killed!” Shizuo wants so badly to wring this smug bastard’s neck, but he still can’t even get his goddamn _pinky_ finger to so much as twitch. 

“Bark, bark, bark.” Vincent mocks, taking a sip of his burgundy as he saunters back over to his enraged ‘guest’. “You know, I really am glad I decided to rent the entirety of the top two floors for this little encounter -- I do so dislike having noise complaints lobbed against me.” 

_Wait, what?_

“This isn’t where you’re staying?” Shizuo asks, unable to believe his ears. How the _hell_ did this man get so rich that he could rent two fucking _floors_ in the Imperial Hotel and not even stay there? 

“Of course not! Only an idiot would invite a man who wanted to kill them to their actual hotel room.” Vincent scoffs, taking another drink from his glass. “Though I suppose it _is_ an idiot I’m speaking with at the moment...” A strange look comes over his face, his brows furrowing as he appears to contemplate something. “I wonder what he sees in you?” He mumbles, so quiet that Shizuo almost doesn’t catch it. 

The sound of a phone ringing draws both of their attention, Vincent setting his glass down on the coffee table before going over to where his cell is currently charging. Pressing the answer button, he brings it to his ear so he can greet his caller. “Hello?” Shizuo can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but he can tell by the smile that spreads across Vincent’s face that it probably isn’t anything good. _”Excellent._ I’ll be there shortly.” He says, hanging up and turning towards his captive. “It seems our time here is at an end.” He informs him, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket. “Shame… I do so enjoy gloating, it’s one of my few flaws.” 

“Wait, so that’s it?” Shizuo asks, incredulous. “You’re just gonna fucking leave?” 

“Incredibly gauche of me, I know -- but I’m afraid I have better things to do.” He picks back up his glass so he can finish his drink, licking his lips in satisfaction. “I need to find out where to purchase this brand of burgundy, it’s quite lovely.” 

“You can’t keep me here forever, you know!” Shizuo snarls, once more trying (and failing) to break free of the other’s hold. 

“Oh, you foolish, foolish man.” Vincent sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t _need_ to keep you here forever... don’t you see?” He comes back over to him, a look of faux sympathy in his eyes. “I just needed to get you out of the way long enough for my associate to retrieve my prize.” 

_No… no no no no no…_

His stomach dropping, Shizuo is suddenly very, very, _very_ aware of just how badly he’s fucked up. “The kid.” He breathes, his skin feeling clammy. She’d trusted him… she’d trusted him, and he’d let her-- 

“The kid? Oh, you mean Subject Thirteen… no, no. I’m not talking about her.” Vincent says dismissively. “I could care less about her, I’ve never much liked children. I’m talking about _Izaya.”_

_Huh?_

“Wait, _Izaya?_ I thought he was just supposed to be a replacement?” He asks, confused. “Why the _hell_ do you want _him?_ He’s--” 

“Worth more than a _million_ hot-headed oafs like you put together.” Vincent snaps, the sudden shift in mood catching Shizuo off-guard. 

“What the hell is your fucking--” 

“I’m tired of listening to your barking, dog.” Vincent cuts him off, no longer caring about being the picture-perfect example of a high-class executive. “And I can’t have you following me the moment you have the chance, so…” He leans in until their faces are so close together that Shizuo has nowhere to look but directly into his eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d _go to sleep.”_

Suddenly feeling very, very, _very_ tired, Shizuo’s eyes close and he slumps to the floor.


	18. Acquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry this: a) took so long, and b) is short. I've been super stressed by and busy with school, and I've only recently had the mental capacity to work on updating my fics. Thanks for being patient, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Izaya wakes with a jolt and a deep inhale of breath, the hair on the back of his neck standing up in response to an unshakeable feeling that something is very, very _wrong_. For a moment, that feeling is exacerbated by the fact that he doesn’t recognize his surroundings… but then he remembers where he is, which makes the cold, empty space beside him less than comforting.

_Please tell me he’s just in the bathroom…_

Unfortunately, when he looks over at it he’s disappointed to find it open, empty, and dark. 

_Shit…_

The unshakeable feeling growing stronger with each passing second, Izaya glances over towards Magnolia’s little blanket nest to discover the girl staring intently at the front door like she’s expecting it to grow fangs and attack. Slowly getting up off of Shizuo’s futon, he catches her eye and starts to raise his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture… only to let it drop back down when he remembers there’s no need. 

_Is someone here?_ He asks in his head, unsure if he expects an answer or not… but he gets one nonetheless, the girl nodding slowly. _Do you know who it is?_

This time, he gets a shake. 

_Great…_

He sighs, then starts silently making his way over to the door. _Do you know where Shizu-chan is?_

Another shake. 

_Of course not… that would be too easy._

He can hear footsteps on the porch outside, followed by a few rustles and the sound of what he assumes is a lockpick being put to use -- staying low, he carefully retrieves his knife from inside his jacket and flicks it open, positioning himself next to the door in order to catch the intruder by surprise the moment they step inside. It’s a good plan -- or, at least, it would have been, had the first thing to come inside actually been the intruder -- but when the door finally creaks open, it’s only long enough for something small and metal to be rolled inside. 

_Huh? What the..._

And that’s when he hears the tell-tale hissing noise of gas escaping a pressurized container, his split-second of confusion replaced by panic the moment he realizes what it must be. 

_Oh no, oh no no no…_

But it’s a realization that comes too late, the fumes already causing his eyelids to grow heavy and his knees to give out underneath him. By the time his body hits the floor, he’s already asleep. 

_Thirty minutes later…_

When Vincent Pierce-Montgomery hired the man known as Jackal, all he’d been told about him was that he was a top-tier infiltrator and that he was rumored to have hacked into the personal computer of a famous network security company’s founder and CEO. Without a name to go by, he couldn’t do a background check first -- but he’s never been the type to take the moral high ground, and he’s also not generally interested in getting to know anyone he doesn’t have to, so he’d decided he didn’t particularly care to try and find out more about his talented yet unpleasant new associate. As long as the job got done, he didn’t care about the rest. 

If he _had_ bothered to do a bit more research, however, he would have discovered some rather interesting things… like the fact that no one knows how old Jackal is, or what his real name is, or where he’s actually from. He would also have discovered the rumor that Jackal used to be a military intelligence operative, but was caught stealing from his employers and was forced to go on the run -- and the rumor that he was let go from his former job as a computer repair technician for secretly going through his clients’ personal files -- and the rumor that he once tried to blackmail a former employer for 100,000,000,000,000 yen -- and the rumor that he once tried to blackmail a completely _different_ former employer into performing sexual favors for him -- and, finally, the rumor that he was caught masturbating on duty when he worked for a surveillance systems company. What he wouldn’t discover, however, is that those rumors were started by none other than Jackal himself -- _and_ that they all happened to be true (well, all but the military intelligence one, that one he made up.) The bottom line is, Jackal is _not_ a good person. In fact, he’d be willing to admit that he’s actually a very, very _bad_ person -- and he’s fine with that, _prefers_ it even -- but one thing bad people are very good at doing is recognizing _other_ bad people, and every interaction he’s had with his current employer so far gives Jackal the distinct impression that Vincent Pierce-Montgomery is not the kind of guy you want to get on the bad side of. That’s why, when Vincent had informed him he was to kidnap a certain individual, he figured it safer not to point out that procuring people was not part of his job description. 

It’s also why he currently has said individual drugged and bound in the back of his van. 

“So… you’re Orihara Izaya, huh?” He says, giving the unconscious man a onceover. Most of the people he’s been hired to stalk ended up being (disappointingly) way less attractive in person than they were in pics and video, but this time it’s the other way around; his harassment of the informant had just been to make him uncomfortable so he’d be more likely to make a mistake (and Jackal would definitely say that goal had been accomplished), but if he wasn’t _absolutely_ sure that Vincent would kill him if he tried anything too skeezy, he probably already would have. “I don’t envy you one bit.” He remarks, despite knowing full well that the other man can’t hear him. “The boss is one scary-ass mother-fucker. Not even sure why… maybe it’s just his posture, or some shit like that. I dunno… all I know is that I’d like to stay on his good side, you know? And that means bringing him what he wants -- and what he wants is you. Nothing personal, right?” 

Taking his burner phone out of his pocket, he dials up Vincent’s number and holds the device to his ear… after a few seconds, he hears a click. 

_’Hello?’_

“Hey boss, package secured. Ready to rendezvous.” 

_**’Excellent.** I’ll be there shortly.’_ There’s another click, and the line goes dead. 

Putting the phone back into his pocket, Jackal exhales and glances down at his captive. “Well, looks like the boss is on his way. Wish he’d told me how far out he was, though…” He crouches down, frowning as he studies Izaya’s sleeping face. “I sure hope you’re having a good dream right now, ‘cause something tells me your life is about to become a living nightmare.” 

Making sure the zip-ties keeping Izaya bound are nice and tight, Jackal hops out of the van and starts preparing for his employer’s imminent arrival. 

.


	19. Unfavorable Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, this chapter could be considered a little trigger-y? Not too much (in my opinion), but enough that I want to be safe. Jackal and Vincent are not good people.

_He’s trapped._

_He’s trapped, and he knows he’s trapped, and he knows the worst possible thing to **be** at this moment is trapped… but there’s nothing he can do to break out of the rusty steel cage he’s currently shackled inside of, and he’s on the verge of panic. He can hear The Jackal moving about in the darkness surrounding his prison, his low, intimidating growl sending shivers of fear up his spine--_

**_’You need to wake up.’_**

_It’s the voice of a young girl’s, familiar yet haunting. It takes him a second to place it._

_’Magnolia.’_

**_’You’re in danger. You need to wake up.’_**

_’In danger? What do you mean, I’m in--’_

And that’s when Izaya remembers what happened, his eyes flying open as a wave of defensive energy reflexively leaves his body. A man he doesn’t recognize goes flying across what looks to be a four or five-star hotel suite, hitting the wall hard enough for it to shake. “Holy _fuckballs!”_ The unfamiliar man gasps in surprise, ogling him like he’d just grown a second head or sprouted a pair of wings. At this point, trying to keep denying that he’s got _some_ sort of special power would just make him look like an idiot -- though he still doesn’t know how to actually _control_ it yet. “Did you know that was going to happen?!” 

“I had a suspicion.” It’s Vincent’s voice, his Japanese as good as if he was a native. 

_I assume that means he was lying about needing a translator… but who’s that with him?_

“You couldn’t have fucking warned me before I got that fucking close to him?” 

“I could have, but this way was far more entertaining for me. Now finishing tying him to the chair and go get the duffelbag from the back of my rental car.” 

“No way, I’m not getting close to him again after what just happened!” 

“It’s not a suggestion, Jackal. Do as I say, before I make you.” 

_Jackal?!_ Izaya’s dream still fresh in his mind, his heart immediately starts thumping in his chest and his entire body tenses up. 

_Please let it be a coincidence..._

The man -- Jackal -- seems suddenly either unwilling or unable to keep protesting, immediately shutting his mouth and doing what he’s told. Izaya tries to struggle, but he’s still groggy from the sedative...he can barely move, let alone put up a fight, and trying to force that strange energy wave to come out again only ends up giving him a headache. Without much trouble, Jackal is able to successfully bind Izaya’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair he’s been placed in, keeping him from being able to run away (not that he’d have been able to do so anyway, considering how his legs refuse to move.) 

_This is a problem. This is definitely, definitely a problem..._

Jackal accepts the keys from Vincent and exits the room, leaving the two men alone. “I’d apologize for the rough treatment...” Vincent begins, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and moving in close so he can clean off the blood that had trickled from his ‘guest’s’ nose. Izaya realizes in a sobering yet terrifying instant that Jackal is the _least_ of his problems right now; the expression on the American’s face is dark, filling him with a sense of dread the likes of which he’s never felt before. “But I’m of the assumption you prefer it that way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Come now. Don’t play innocent -- I know what you and that so-called “monster” did.” Vincent informs him, his contempt evident in his voice. “My associate, Jackal...” He gestures to the door the man had left out of only a few moments before. “He was listening in to your little late-night “bonding” session -- he managed to record a little bit of it, too. Want to hear it?” 

“...” Izaya really, really, really wishes that he could write it off as a bluff, but something tells him it’s not. Trying to swallow back the bile threatening to rise up out of his throat, he takes a slow, deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“I’m curious… is there something special about Heiwajima, or is any man fan?” Vincent asks, in a way that would almost seem nonchalant if it wasn’t for the dangerous look in his eyes… a look that does nothing to intimidate the now _incredibly_ offended informant, his own eyes narrowing. 

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to try and humiliate me, Mr. Montgomery?” He asks, his voice eerily calm despite how upset he currently is. 

“A few, actually, but we’ve run out of time.” As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door before Jackal reenters the room and places a large grey duffelbag on the ground in front of him. “Package retrieved.” He says with a smirk. 

“Excellent. Now open it and show Mr. Orihara what we have, won’t you?” 

Jackal complies, and the moment Izaya sees what’s in it, he wants to scream in frustration; there, in all her ethereal beauty, is Celty’s severed head. 

_Fuck! Fuck shit damnit fuck FUCK!_

“Is that some sort of theatre prop?” He asks, his throat dry. It’s a weak attempt at deflection, and he knows it. 

“You tell me, Izaya. Jackal found it in your home, after all.” 

“Did he now?” 

“He did. Now, are you going to be a good boy and tell me who or what this belongs to, or am I going to have to show you what I do to people who won’t give me what I want?” Vincent asks, the implications in his words causing Izaya to swallow nervously and decide it’s probably best to just give the man what he wants for now… or at least the bare minimum of it. 

“It belongs to a Dullahan.” 

“A Dullahan?” Vincent ponders this information for a second. If the head belongs to a Dullahan, it would explain why it’s still alive despite being separated from its host -- it does not, however, explain why Izaya had it, or how he even got it in the first place. “And how did a simple information broker like yourself happen to get his hands on a Dullahan’s head, I wonder?” 

“...” 

“Hey, guys? I’m still a little lost.” Jackal interrupts. “What the hell’s a Dullahan?” 

“A type of fairy.” 

“A _fairy?”_ The hacker snorts derisively. “You don’t seriously believe in that shit, do you?” 

“There is more in this world than that tiny brain of yours could ever comprehend, Jackal. If being tossed around like a rag doll without ever being physically touched isn’t proof enough for you, I would gladly give you a more hands-on demonstration.” It’s less like an offer than it is a warning, the icy cold tone in his voice giving both Izaya _and_ Jackal the chills. 

“No, I’m, uh… I think I’m good.” Jackal responds, his hands up in a gesture of submission. Izaya can’t say he blames him… there’s something strange about Vincent today, something about the way he’s talking, the way he’s standing, the way he’s _staring_ \-- at _him_ more than the head, in a way that makes him a little self-conscious and more than a little uncomfortable. 

_I need to find a way out of this, and soon._

“I would appreciate it if you’d answer the question, Mister Orihara. My patience is not at it’s strongest today.” 

“It’s kind of a long story...” He trails off, not at all pleased with the idea of giving his captor any more information than he already has. 

“Then give me the abridged version.” 

“...” 

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Mister Orihara.” 

“I’m thinking of where to start.” 

_And how to not have to…_

“I would prefer you start at the beginning. How did you discover the existence of this creature?” 

“A friend…” 

“A friend?” Vincent raises his eyebrow. “Ah, don’t tell me… Shinra? Was that his name?” 

_How does he know about Shinra?_

“...” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on hurting him -- not until I cement relations with Nebula, at least. I can’t afford to cut those ties right now… as much as I’d prefer to.” Vincent informs him, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he remembers his contact’s incredibly obnoxious personality. 

_Nebula? Ah, that’s right. Shingen works there, doesn’t he?_

Izaya opens his mouth to ask him if he’s met the elder Kishitani when he’s cut off by the sound of a phone ringing, Vincent pulling an expensive iPhone out of his suit pocket and bringing it to his ear. “Hello, Father.” He says, his voice and expression bitter. 

_His father?_

Judging by his demeanor, their father-son relationship isn’t the greatest. Unable to resist the temptation, Izaya tries to listen in on the conversation like he’d had Sumiye and her girlfriend… but for some reason it doesn’t work, his headache growing so strong that he almost passes out. 

_Damn it, I must have used up all my energy already. Shit, shit, shit! What am I going to do?_

Scavenging his brain for even the tiniest scrap of a plan, Izaya doesn’t notice that Vincent has finished up his phone call until the taller man is directly in his face. “I do not like having my privacy trampled upon, Mister Orihara.” Vincent tells him, his expression one of anger. “So consider this a warning… the next time you try to eavesdrop on a conversation of mine, you best be prepared to face the consequences. Do you understand?” 

“...” 

“Yes or no, Izaya. Do you understand?” 

“...What happens if I say no?” 

“Would you like me to show you?” 

“Answering with your words is fine.” 

“Oh, but I’d much rather just show you.” Vincent responds, an almost sadistic glint in his eyes. _”Jackal.”_

“Huh? What is it, boss?” 

“If you’ve done your job correctly, you should be an expert on our captive by now. Tell me -- if I wanted to teach him a lesson, what sort of methods should I use?” He asks, walking behind Izaya and squeezing his shoulders in a way that’s far more threatening than it is reassuring. 

“Oh thank god, I was wondering when it would start to get fun.” Jackal rubs his hands together greedily and licks his lips. “Let’s see here…” He gives the captive man a creepily long onceover and an even creepier grin before continuing. “Well, he really doesn’t seem to like being sexually harassed, if you’re not still in denial about wanting to fuck him.” 

_”Jackal…”_ Vincent’s eyes narrow, his tone one of warning. 

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do something he’ll hate, the humiliation route’s the way to go. It’s worked real wonders for me so far.” 

Something clicks in Izaya’s head, and the only thing that stops him from screeching and launching himself at the smug son of a bitch is the chair he’s tied to. “You! You’re the one that kept texting me, you… you…. Ugh!” He hates how powerless he is right now, how the sick bastard that’s been messing with him all this time is standing right there in fucking front of him and he can’t fucking do _shit._ “I swear to you, when I get out of this fucking chair, I am going to make you wish you had never been _born!”_

“See? He fucking _hates_ it.” 

“What exactly did you do?” Vincent asks, both amused and a little surprised to see the informant break his composure so drastically. 

“Just teased him a little, that’s all.” 

“You ‘teased him a little?’ Exactly what do you mean by that?” Vincent asks. 

“You know... sent him a dick pic, asked him if he thought Heiwajima had ever masturbated to the thought of raping him, little stuff. Holy shit, do you see how red his face is right now? He looks like he’s about to explode.” 

Vincent glances at Izaya. The brunette really does look like he’s about to explode, his cheeks stained with humiliation and his eyes wide with anger -- if he hadn’t already used up all his energy, he’d most likely have blown a couple lights just from the effort of holding it all in. Vincent has to admit… it’s a good look for him. “Alright, here is what’s going to happen: I have an errand I need to run, and you are going to stay here and keep an eye on our guest. If our guest misbehaves in any way, punish him in whatever way you see fit. I should be back in no later than an hour.” Vincent hates it when his father orders him around like he _hasn’t_ carried The Project on his back since his father became convalescent, the only thing keeping him from murdering him being the fact that he hasn’t finished signing the company over to him yet -- but the “errand” he’s been told to run isn’t one he can afford to skip out on, so he doesn’t really have a choice but to go. 

“Wait, you can’t leave me alone here with him!” Izaya protests, trying desperately not to let his growing panic overtake him completely. 

“I think you’ll find, Mister Orihara, that I can do anything I damn well please.” Vincent replies coldly. “Goodbye, Jackal. Try not to have _too_ much fun with him before I get back.” Opening the door to the suite, Vincent heads out into the empty corridor while humming pleasantly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now that this chapter is over, I confess I'm having some issues with direction and was hoping to get a sense of what kind of things you all are hoping to see happen. Basically, if you could choose what happens to Izaya next chapter, what would you go with? Keep in mind I just want to get a feel for expectations, as well as give people a chance to say if there's anything they DON'T particularly want to see as well as anything they do. It's difficult for me to look at my work objectively, so I can't always tell if something is too much or not enough.


	20. False Alarm

Shizuo Heiwajima is not the smartest man in the world. Anyone who knows him is aware of this fact, and if they’re smart and/or sane, they keep it to themselves. Shizuo isn’t the type of person you want to piss off, after all; sure, he’s never actually ended up _killing_ anybody, but he’s put his fair share of people in hospitals and the only reason no one’s ever pressed charges is because they’re too scared of him to actually do so. By living in this manner, Shizuo has been able to avoid having to face any true consequences for his actions -- jail cells can’t hold him, other _people_ can’t hold him, and the only person equally matched with him physically is too much of a pacifist to cause him any trouble. Needless to say, while he _is_ particularly used to being outsmarted, he’s _not_ particularly used to being outmatched.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

Now, hurrying as fast as his legs can carry him, Shizuo is on his way back to his apartment hoping with all his heart that that bastard American had been bluffing. When he opens the door to a distraught Magnolia and no sign of the flea, he’s forced to admit the reality of the situation. Izaya has been kidnapped… and it’s _his fault._

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” He lets out a frustrated growl and punches the wall hard enough for it to crack. “I’m such a fucking idiot, why the _fuck_ did I think listening to that piece of shit was a good idea?” He’d let their enemy trick him into leaving, and now one of the people he was supposed to protect is _gone._ Hell, it had even been _his_ idea to protect him in the first place! And what had happened? He’d failed. He’d failed _miserably._

“Shit, shit, shit…” 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he searches through his contacts for Shinra’s information before pressing the ‘Call’ button. 

_Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…_

_”...Hello?”_ Shinra’s voice sounds groggy, like he’s only just woken up. 

“I fucked up!” 

_”Wait, what? Shizuo, is that you?”_

“Yes, it’s Shizuo! I fucked up, and now Vincent Whatever-His-Name-Is has the flea!” 

_”He **what?”**_ Shinra definitely sounds more alert now. _”Please tell me you’re joking.”_

“I really wish I was, Shinra.” 

_”What about your other guest? Is she alright?”_

He glances at Magnolia, who’s staring at him with wide, worried eyes. “She’s shaken up, but she’s fine. Izaya _isn’t._ Shinra, I met Vincent and he--” 

_”You **what?** ”_ Shinra cuts him off, his tone one of disbelief. _”What do you mean, you met Vincent? When? Where? **How?”**_

“That’s not fucking important, Shinra! What’s important is that he has Izaya, and we need to get him back before that creep does something to him!” 

_”You seem awfully worried about Izaya, considering how much you claim to hate him.”_

“That’s not important either! Are you gonna help me, or not?” 

_”Hold on one second.”_

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You want me to just hold _on_ a second?” Shizuo can’t believe his ears. 

_”Yes, because I need to tell Celty what’s going on!”_ Shinra responds exasperatedly. 

“Fine, but hurry it up!” 

_”Would it hurt you to have some patience for a change?”_

“No, but it might hurt Izaya!” 

_”That’s… a fair point.”_ Shizuo hears the sound of knocking, and then a door opening, and then Shinra’s muffled voice. After a minute or so, the doctor gets back to him. _”We’re heading over now.”_

He lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Shinra. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up, putting his phone back into his pocket and flopping backwards onto his futon. Despite having slept quite a bit, Shizuo feels absolutely exhausted… and it’s still only morning, so he’s already able to tell that it’s going to be a very, very, _very_ long day. He wants to take a quick nap while he waits for his friends to arrive, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees Izaya’s face staring back at him. He’d spent years trying to deny his feelings for the other man, assuming that there was no possible way they could ever be returned -- but when he’d felt Izaya’s lips on his last night, it brought back all those pent-up emotions and _then_ some. He’d let himself give in far too easily… though who can blame him, when the subject of his deepest desires had been offered up to him like that? He’s _never_ been good at controlling himself. 

_And now, he’s been kidnapped. I finally got my hands on him… I can’t lose him already! I just can’t!_

Feeling just as powerless as he’d felt in Vincent’s hotel room, Shizuo is on the verge of tears when a soft, tiny hand presses against his forehead. Opening his eyes, he finds Magnolia looking down at him with a concerned expression on her pale, freckled face. “Hey, kid…” He says, gently ruffling her hair. “Sorry if I scared you.” She blinks at him, and he sighs. “I do kinda wish you could understand me, though… kinda hard to protect someone when you can’t communicate with ‘em, you know?” 

Magnolia may not be able to understand his words, but she’s always been good at sensing what people are trying to convey. Of course, it also helps that her new friend uses a lot of body language. Patting him on the head reassuringly, she smiles before copying him and ruffling his hair. She wishes she could tell him it’s going to be okay, but she can’t… not just because she can’t communicate with him, but because she’s not actually sure it’s the truth. She’s having trouble tuning into Izaya’s psychic wavelength, and even when she can it’s only enough to send a thought or two; all she knows is that he’s in danger, and she has _no_ desire to let That Man keep torturing people in the name of science. She has to do something. _They_ have to do something. But what? 

When there’s a knock on the door some time later, she’s relieved to discover that Celty and her doctor friend have come to visit (well, relieved to discover that Celty has come to visit. She’s still iffy about the doctor.) “Alright, we’re here. Tell us what happened.” 

“Vincent called me early this morning, said he wanted to meet in person. I agreed, like an idiot, and walked right into his fucking trap. He kept me there, while some _other_ asshole nabbed the flea.” 

[Why didn’t they take the girl, too? That’s what they came here for, right?] 

“I don’t know why they came here, but I do know that Vincent doesn’t give a shit about the kid. He told me so himself.” 

“That’s… weird.” 

“Yeah, and the way he was talking about Izaya was really fucking creepy. Kept saying shit like how the fleas worth a million times more than me and how he doesn’t understand what he sees in me.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“That’s what I want to fucking know.” Shizuo responds. 

“Well, what _I_ want to know is what you did to him. You didn’t happen to bring him here with you, did you?” 

“No, I, uh… wasn’t able to catch him.” He admits, very pointedly not looking at him. 

“Why not?” 

“Yeah, so… it turns out our guy’s got psychic powers too. Go figure, huh?” 

“Wait, seriously?” Shinra asks, surprised. 

“Yeah. He can do the same shit the kid can do, along with some weird hypnosis shit that can put people to sleep or something. I dunno, all I know is that he told me to go to sleep, and I did.” His fists clench, his frustration obvious to everyone in the room. “That guy seriously pisses me off. I think I hate him even more than the flea! When I get my hands on him, I’m gonna grind him into dust and flush him down the fucking toilet!” 

Nobody says anything for a while, the weight of Shizuo’s words taking a minute to sink in. If their enemy was able to overpower _Shizuo_ of all people… there’s no way he’s going to go down easy. When Shinra finally breaks the silence, his words aren’t directed to Shizuo. “Did you see what happened?” He asks Magnolia, the English not particularly comfortable on his tongue. 

The ever-silent little girl nods. 

“Can you tell me?” 

Silence. 

“Can you show me? You know, like… uh… Charades! That’s what it’s called, right? Charades?” He looks over at Celty, who nods in confirmation. 

Magnolia appears to mull it over for a moment or so, then nods, points to the door, and mimics what looks to be someone opening it and throwing something inside. After she does that, she points to herself, makes a show of sniffing at the air, then pretends to (rather dramatically) fall asleep. 

[Sleeping gas?] 

“Sounds like it, unfortunately. It was a smart move on their part… Izaya’s wily, putting him to sleep is really the only way to ensure you can get your hands on him safely.” 

[Isn’t sleeping gas hard to find, though?] 

“I imagine Vincent knows where to get a lot of things that are hard to find. If the kidnapper’s working for him, sleeping gas probably wouldn’t be very difficult to procure.” 

[I suppose that makes sense…] 

“In any case, what are we going to do about Izaya? He could have been taken anywhere.” 

“Damn it, I wish I had that lady’s number -- oh, yeah! I forgot to tell you -- we met an employee of Vincent’s. I can’t remember her name, though… Su...Sumo-something? She said her boss doesn’t trust Vincent, and she trusts her boss.” 

“Why didn’t you get her number?” 

“I didn’t think to. I was… distracted.” 

“Distracted? By what?” 

“Uh… well, uh--” He’s cut off by a loud, almost frantic knock on the door. With the amount of coincidences he’s experienced lately, he’s half-expecting it to be the women he’d met yesterday… who he’s _not_ expecting it to be is the very man they’re looking for, out of breath but mostly no worse for wear. “Izaya!” 

“Shizu-chan! And look, Shinra and Celty are here too!” Izaya pushes past Shizuo into the crowded apartment, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him. “Don’t tell me you guys were going to go look for me, were you?” 

“Of course we fucking weren’t!” Shizuo snaps, his face turning red. He’d gotten all worked up over nothing! Or so he thinks, until he notices the aforementioned footprints. “Wait, what the hell? Why are your feet bleeding?” 

“I may have had to walk over some broken glass on my way back here. In case you couldn’t tell, I wasn’t exactly prepared to go out into the world today.” As he had still been asleep when he’d been kidnapped, he’d also still been wearing Shizuo’s clothes… having to run around barefoot in too-big sweatpants and a loose t-shirt had made his escape a great deal more difficult. 

“But you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you or anything?” 

“My, my, Shizu-chan -- if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried about me.” 

“L-Like hell I am!” Shizuo sputters. 

“Aw, are you embarrassed? That’s adorable.” Izaya rolls the legs of his pants up and sits on the edge of the tub, turning on the faucet so he can rinse his feet off. “But don’t worry… he didn’t hurt me. He didn’t really have a chance.” He blesses his luck that Vincent had gotten that phone call when he did… he would never have been able to get away otherwise. 

“How did you escape, though?” Shizuo asks, curious (and a little impressed, though he’d never admit it.) 

“It’s a long story, and I’ll be happy to tell it once I’ve had some time to relax. Okay?” He’s still on an adrenaline-high, his breaths coming out ragged and short. Nodding his approval, Shizuo glances at the other three. They look just as confused as he does… even Magnolia, and apparently she and the flea have some sort of special connection (that he’s totally not jealous of.) Sighing, he sits back down on the bed. As annoyed as he is, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad Izaya was okay… so, deciding to be patient for once, he lays back and waits for Izaya to be done.


	21. The Escape

“I’m sorry, _what_ did you just say to me?” Vincent Pierce-Montgomery asks, his ice-blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

“The captive escaped?” Jackal offers hopefully, his heart beating like a jackhammer. 

“Yes, that. That thing you just said to me -- how, exactly, did that happen?” The American asks, moving towards the other man in a way that could only be described as threatening. 

“He tricked me?” 

“And how, exactly, did he do that?” 

The nervous hacker gulps, trying to think of a scenario in his head that sounds less pathetic than the one that actually happened. In reality, he doesn’t really have an excuse -- the captive getting away was _entirely_ his fault, he’s just too afraid to admit it. “I mean, he, uh… he promised some things.” 

“Like?” 

“Well, uh…” He tries to ignore the pain in his groin. 

That’s when Vincent realizes what the other man is trying to say, letting out one of the most obnoxious cackles Jackal has ever heard. “Oh God… don’t tell me you thought he wanted to _fuck_ you?” 

“He was very convincing!” 

“Of _course_ he was, he got into your head! And you _let_ him!” 

“I don’t see how it’s that funny!” 

“It’s funny, because from what I’ve seen of him so far, he probably hated every _minute_ of it… and you still bought it! Though, the way he acted when you were telling me about the texts you’d sent him -- _that_ is the Izaya Orihara I want to see more of.” Vincent says, his expression changing from one of annoyance to one of glee. The informant was good at hiding his emotions most of the time, but he’s learned that there are certain… _buttons_... that, if pressed, seem able to set him off in ways nothing else could -- and those were, of course, the exact buttons Vincent wanted to press the most. “I wonder what it is about Heiwajima that excites him so much?” 

“I mean, if he’s a masochist, I imagine that Heiwajima’s monstrous, inhuman strength might contribute to it.” Jackal remarks, almost sarcastically. 

“I met Heiwajima. I was not impressed.” Vincent replies, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. “He’s strong physically, yes… but mentally? He has the self-control of a rabid wolverine.” 

“You know, most people would find that metaphor terrifying.” 

“I am not most people.” Vincent responds haughtily. 

“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” The Japanese man states flatly. He’d been expecting Vincent to be just another easy mark, a spoiled rich kid biting off more than he could chew… but it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that his employer is on a whole other level. He’d probably be impressed, if he wasn’t so terrified of him. 

“Walk me through what happened, Jackal.” The CEO orders. “Paint this picture for me. I want to understand _exactly_ how our captive managed to get away, no details spared.” 

“Okay. So. What happened was…” 

_____________ 

“Are you done relaxing yet?” Shizuo calls through his bathroom door, never having been good at dealing with impatience. He can hear an exasperated sigh from the other side, but chooses to ignore it -- he’d actually felt _scared_ for the little shit, and for what? For him to just saunter back, none the worse for wear? 

_Except he is the worse for wear. The bloody footprints on your floor are proof enough of that._

“Could you perhaps give me one, maybe two more minutes, Shizu-chan?” The other man calls back, something in the brunette’s voice nagging at the restless blonde. 

_He’s hiding something._

A tug on one of his belt-loops draws his attention, Magnolia looking up at him with an expression that he _hopes_ means not to worry. Sighing, he goes back over to the futon and plops down on it. 

_Why am I getting so worked up, anyway? It’s not like I actually **like** the little bastard, or anything…_

That’s what he tells himself, at least, but even he knows it’s bullshit. He just doesn’t want to admit it. 

When the informant _does_ finally come back out, Shizuo is secretly disappointed to discover that he’s put back on his normal clothes. Not sure what else he should have expected when there’s three other people in the room (one of them being a _literal_ child), he swallows back the intense urge to reach out and touch him. 

_I shouldn’t have gone into the bathroom last night. Now that I’ve had a taste of him…_

...he doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to living without him. 

_Which just makes it even more important for me to **not fucking mess up again!**_

“Alright, so. I was going to tell you how I managed to escape, wasn’t I?” 

“Yes, you were.” Shinra responds, feeling almost as impatient as Shizuo. He’d come over because he’d thought a friend was in trouble (and also because Shizuo is not the type of person you say no to), but then that friend turned out to be just fine on his own and the fact that he could be spending this time dreaming of an exotic, sensual getaway with Celty instead of sharing a cheap and extremely uncomfortable futon (seriously, remind him to buy Shizuo a new one for his birthday/Christmas/a peace offering/whichever comes first) with a mysterious yet fascinating -- and if he’s being honest, a tad terrifying -- little psychic girl. 

“Alright. So. My escape.” 

“Yes.” 

“It, uh….” 

It’s obvious to everyone in the room that the informant seems hesitant to continue, but only one person has any clue as to why. Slowly getting up from her seat on the futon, Magnolia walks over to Izaya and tugs on his sleeve to get his attention. _’It’s okay. They won’t judge you for it.’_

_’Please stop reading my mind, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.’_

_’I’m sorry… I can’t help it.’_

_’Why not?’_

_’I don’t know. You’re the only one I have this problem with.’_

_’Wait, really?’_

_’Yes. Mind-reading is something even **he** isn’t good at.’_

Izaya thinks back to when he’d been trying to listen to Sumiye’s phone call and had ended up hearing more than he’d been meant to. He hadn’t been _trying_ to read anyone’s mind, but… how else had he been able to listen in like that? 

_When you say ‘him’, I assume you mean Vincent?_

_Yes... I hate him._

_Honestly? Me too._

“Um… Izaya?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You were about to start talking about your escape?” 

Realizing that no one else is even aware of the conversation he’s been having with his young friend, Izaya takes a breath and pushes all of his unwanted thoughts as far back as he can. “Ah, yes. My escape.” He echoes, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “That. Let’s see, here. Where shall I begin…” 

_And how do I explain it without telling them more than I’m comfortable with them knowing?_

_____________ 

“So is this an expression of your twisted psyche, or can you not get off any other way?” 

“What answer would get you hotter?” 

“Neither. In fact, I think I just felt my testicles retract.” Izaya responds. He’s not normally the vulgar type, but vulgarity seems to be Jackal’s weapon of choice and he does _not_ like appearing unarmed. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you’re not into this degradation shit -- I _heard_ the way you let that _freak_ talk to you.” 

Izaya’s not sure why the other man’s words upset him that much, but they do. “That _freak_ is more of a man than you’ll ever be.” He spits, his eyes narrowing. 

_Men like this always care more about their masculinity than they do their common sense. It won’t take much to get him to make a mistake._

“Excuse me?” Jackal scoffs, his tone betraying how insulted he’s currently feeling. 

_Called it._

“Oh, I’m sorry… did I hurt your feelings~?” Izaya asks, his voice dripping with false innocence. 

_Good! Go to hell, you disgusting piece of shit!_

“Hahaha, no. I’m not sure I have any feelings left to hurt.” 

“Oh. That’s unfortunate.” 

“Oh?” 

“If you heard me with the beast, than you’d know that I’m not exactly opposed to the idea of a little… _rough-housing..._ and I’d be lying if I said this situation wasn’t making me a bit… _excited.”_ The informant says, trying not to grit his teeth _too_ hard. “But if you don't have feelings, than I’d assume you wouldn’t be interested...” 

“Are you flirting with me, Orihara?” Jackal asks, grinning, 

“I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation.” Izaya responds. 

_Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it…_

“Well, in that case…” Jackal leers and saunters over to the smaller man, his libido beating out his common sense. “How about you show me just what you--” 

_WHAM!_

The moment his captor gets within range, Izaya headbutts him as hard as he can, letting out a sigh of relief when he crumples to the ground. He has no idea how long it will be before Vincent comes back, _or_ what he plans to do with him… but he _does_ know that it’s nothing good, and he is far too stubborn to give up without a fight. 

_Come on, come on, come on, please work…_

He concentrates on his wrist bindings with all his might, bringing all of his feelings of humiliation and rage to the forefront of his mind. He has no idea if what he’s trying is even possible, especially considering he still hasn’t _fully_ processed the fact that he’s apparently _fucking psychic..._ but he can’t afford to not try. 

“Nng…” Jackal groans and stirs, prompting his heart to start beating triple-time. 

_Please, please, please, please…_

And then the rope tied around his wrists drops to the ground, telling the informant that his desperate attempt to blindly use his newfound abilities to somehow psychically untie his bindings had actually managed to _work._

_I take it back. I now **absolutely** believe in miracles._

He unties his ankles, then goes over to his captor’s immobile body. Jackal doesn’t _look_ like he’s going to get up anytime soon, but everything that’s happened over the past few days has shown Izaya that even _he_ is capable of being proven wrong... so instead of taking his chances, he instead decides to remove Jackal’s belt from his pants and use it to bind his wrists together. 

_It won’t stop him forever, but it will at least slow him down… I hope._

He takes a few minutes to remove Jackal’s steel-toed combat boots and try them on, nervously glancing back at him every time he hears so much as a rustle. He has no desire to travel who knows how far on his bare feet alone -- but, unfortunately for him, the unconscious man’s shoes are way too big for him to even _consider_ trying to wear them. He sighs and pauses for a moment, about to drop the pair of heavy shoes on the ground before a sudden burst of anger causes him to change his mind. 

_I hope you’re sore for **weeks** after this._ He thinks to himself, right before letting the (still heavy) pair of steel-toed combat boots fall directly onto his passed out kidnapper’s lap. Taking a second to relish in the grunt of pain Jackal lets out, he steps over his body and heads out the door. 


End file.
